


Phoenix Flames

by Lotusinthedark



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Depression, Eventual Happy Ending, F/M, Friendship, Loss, Mild Language, Panic Attacks, Romance, Slow Build, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-05
Updated: 2019-06-05
Packaged: 2020-04-08 02:14:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 14
Words: 28,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19097683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lotusinthedark/pseuds/Lotusinthedark
Summary: The journey beyond the final battle. Recreating yourself is a painful process. A whole generation of Witches and Wizards working to recreate themselves after the Wizarding World. What will rise from the ashes? Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy. Post-War. Rated M for depression, violence, character death, sexual themes & language. *Please review!*Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy. Post-War.





	1. Proud

**Author's Note:**

> Authors Note: The characters in this story go through a series of development and changes. The pace is slow and steady. I promise, you'll love it and it's totally worth the wait :) Draco doesn't stay like this forever. And remember that ultimately, this is a romance, not a tragedy.

Chapter One: Proud

Everything should have ended. Yet here he was, breathing in, breathing out. He knew his heart was beating. It was probably hammering against his ribcage. However, he felt a void. A heavy, dark weight lingered against his chest where he should feel his heartbeat. It was as though a Dementor had put its hand inside his chest, and wrapped its fingers around his heart. The cold ran so deep it became numbness, nothingness.

Yet, here he lay, heart beating, lungs breathing, body betraying the mind. Light suddenly hit his face. His eyes opened. Hard silver eyes met cold grey stone. He turned his eyes to the high window, where the dawning sun streaked through the thick metal bars. He could hear the rush of the water far below, the sound of the birds. He could taste the salt on the air.

Draco sat up slowly, turning his eyes to the floor of his cell. This had been his home almost since the end of the war. All of the remaining Death Eaters had been arrested following Harry Potter’s victory over the Dark Lord. Trials were being organized at top speed. Draco didn’t know much beyond that. He had spent most of his time here, locked away in solitary confinement. 

The first week Draco had been to Azkaban, the Death Eaters had careful eyes on his family. Their fallout with the Dark Lord had been well known. Whispers and rumors of their true allegiance began to spread. It was soon no secret that Narcissa’s failure to correctly identify Potter as dead, had resulted in the ultimate demise of their Lord.

The family chose to sit together, interacting with no one, speaking nothing. Lucius and Narcissa would not touch each other, would not speak. They remained proud and proper. Each day they sat there, backs tall, well groomed, hands folded on the table. Draco sat next to his mother in stony silence day after day. He could feel the fury bubbling in those around them; the threats buried in the glances and sneers.

The days passed slowly. Hostility began to seep through the cold stones. It began with Lucius. He would arrive to meals, new bruises and scars visible on his face and arms. Most guards did nothing. Death Eaters taking care of their own, it seemed, did not create cause for alarm.

Narcissa had pursed her lips the first day he had appeared at their table this way. She remained stony and silent, hands folded neatly in front of her. It only got worse. Every day, Lucius appeared with a new wound, a new bruise, looking more and more battered as the old marks began to fade beneath the new ones. However, he remained unbroken, back tall.

Draco sneered slightly in his mind. The Dark Lord had been the only one capable of breaking his father. Surely his Death Eaters knew they were nothing compared to him?

Rodolphus Lestrange had been the fool to go after his mother.

Draco remembered it clearly. She was late. Lucius and Draco both sat in their stony silence, uncomfortable with the broken routine, but remaining aloof in the eyes of those around them. When Narcissa finally arrived to breakfast that morning, her eye swollen, bruises around her throat, the air seemed to freeze in Draco’s lungs. She took her seat silently at Draco’s side, folding her hands in front of her. Draco could see her knuckles were bloody and scratched, her nails broken. 

Then he looked at his father. Lucius had gone rigid. His silver eyes locked to hers. Draco felt a sudden flicker of power between them. Legilimency and Occlumency. Narcissa closed her eyes, throwing up mental shields. His family had learned this skill through force while the Dark Lord had stayed with them. Occlumency was the only thing that kept his mother alive during that time. She had been against the war long before Lucius and Draco. They had all learned Legilimency for the sake of their survival. It had come suddenly and easily to all of them that last year in the Manor.

His father silently coaxed his mother to let down her shields. A single tear ran down her face. Draco stepped into the memory with his Father, both staring at his mother.

A hand went over her mouth. She tried to scream, nails digging into a thick arm. A man growled in her ear. Her back was slammed against a wall, a second hand came up to her throat, squeezing there, choking her into silence. The cruel eyes of Rodolphus Lestrange leered at her in the darkness.

“How much longer do you think you’ll be safe here, dear Cissy?” He mocked the old pet name to her face. “You, or that pathetic excuse for a husband, or your blood-traitor of a son?” His eyes narrowed dangerously, “You cost me my wife…”

Narcissa bit him. Rodolphus pulled his hand away, then his fist slammed against her face, and she toppled to the floor. A pair of guards came around the corner, their wands suddenly in their hands. Rodolphus was struck in the back with a stunning spell. Narcissa had her head in her arms, trembling.

Draco and his Father came out of the memory at the same moment. Lucius reached a hand out to her and held her face gently in his hand. He wiped a tear away with his thumb. Lucius stood, calmly walking to the guard at the gate. Draco didn’t hear the words. He didn’t see beyond the second tear sliding down his mother’s face.

Blood began to pound in his ears. Sensation swam through his body. He was overwhelmed with emotion. His vision seemed to turn red. Draco remembered standing. He remembered Rodolphus’ expression when Draco’s hands found his throat, thumbs reaching for his cruel dark eyes. He remembered the first piercing scream as hot blood began to flow between his fingers.

Then the next thing Draco knew, he was lifting his head groggily, the world spinning around him. He knew this feeling. He’d been stunned. He was sitting, bound in chains, blood covering his hands and arms. There was no clarity in his memories. 

Ever since that moment, he’d been here. How long had he been sealed away in this solitary confinement? Time had lost meaning. He felt a sickening jolt at the memory of his mother’s bruised face. Lucius deserved to be here. Draco deserved to be here. Narcissa did not.

The wall formed a thick metal door. There was an echoing creak as it opened suddenly and unexpectedly. Draco blinked slightly at the change, wondering if he were hallucinating.

Harry Potter stood in the doorway, hand on the door, two wands in his hands. He threw one across the room. Draco caught it deftly between his fingers. Warmth from his wand shivered up his arm, invading the hollowness in his chest, swallowed quickly by the strange numbness. His silver eyes locked to Potter’s green ones. A million questions swam through his mind all at once, but only one thing mattered.

“What’s happened to my mother, Potter?” Draco’s unused voice cracked several times as he tried to speak. 

“Narcissa has been out for a while now. Almost your entire time in solitary,” Harry replied quietly, tightening his grasp on the doorknob. “She’s waiting for you.”

“My Father?” he inquired further.

“Sentenced to two year house arrest,” Harry replied calmly, putting both hands in his pockets. He snorted lightly, “Lucius made quite a few heavy handed donations to get him and your mother out of here.” Harry’s mouth thinned slightly. “He’s also been stripped of his title as head of Malfoy house.”

Accepting the answers, Draco slowly lifted his wand, lying flat in his hand, raising an eyebrow. He wordlessly asked about himself with the gesture.

Harry inhaled through his nose and exhaled slowly, “You’ve been cleared of all charges, Malfoy. We’re going back to the auror office now.”

Relief briefly sank through Draco, again disappearing the moment that it struck the strange void in his chest, replaced with a powerful self-loathing.

I don’t deserve this. They should leave me here to rot. He closed his eyes to breathe in, then out. He wanted to lean forward, to rest his head in both hands momentarily. Strange and jumbled emotions lit his insides, some fading into the void, others tightening his throat. Malfoy's were proud. The Dark Lord had been the only to break their family. He would not allow another to do it, ever again.

His mask of boredom fell back in place, mental walls went up, his coldness clicked in his silver eyes. Draco stood calmly, pocketing his wand. He ran a hand through his long hair, pushing it from his face, back tall. Harry motioned with his head to follow him in the hall. Draco didn’t move for a moment. Proud or not, there was something that needed to be said.

“Thank you,” Draco spoke, his voice surprisingly strong. Black eyebrows shot up into a jumbled mess of black hair. Green eyes went wide in shock at the words. Once upon another lifetime, the look would have made Draco sneer. Now however, he felt like a shell of his former self. Silently, Potter turned, and Draco followed.


	2. Temper, Temper

Chapter Two: Temper, Temper

Hermione frowned slightly at the Daily Prophet. The title blared up in large black letters: Draco Malfoy: Acquitted! There, on the cover, was a photograph of Harry standing with Draco and his mother, Narcissa. A reporter squeezed into the photograph, pushing towards the silver haired man. Harry put a firm hand on the reporter’s shoulder, frowning and shaking his head no.

Hermione took a quick sip of her coffee, pushing her curly hair from her face. She read quickly. Draco Malfoy was acquitted yesterday of all charges, and emerged from the Ministry of Magic escorted by none other than The Boy Who Lived and Died and Lived Again. There was an uproar of protests at this sudden turn of events. Overwhelming evidence has already been given against the Malfoy heir. Final testimonies were being gathered and Malfoy was scheduled to appear in the Wizengamot later this year. Charges included but were not limited to: conspiracy to commit the murder of Albus Dumbledore, participation with the hate group known as the Death Eaters, the kidnap and torture of Mr. Garrick Ollivander, and the kidnap and torture of Miss Luna Lovegood.

Malfoy has remained in solitary confinement for the past year due to an attack on one Rodolphus Lestrange. Eye-witness Azkaban guards claimed Malfoy attempted to murder Lestrange within the first month of his awaiting trial. His irrational behavior made him a danger to other prisoners. His appearance in court was denied due to his unpredictable rage.

Hermione went slightly cold at the name Lestrange. Her heart slammed against her ribcage, fingers grasped the paper tightly and her lungs felt heavy and full. She closed her eyes, taking a sip of her coffee and placed it down quickly as she felt her hand begin to shake. Hermione put her hand flat on the surface of the table. The sound of Bellatrix’s insane laugh dug into her skull for a moment.

Her vision began to darken. She forgot how to breathe. Hermione began to flex her toes, inhaling sharply. The smell of Mrs. Weasley’s cooking, coffee, the Burrow invaded her senses. She could feel the hard chair under her body, the soft air hitting her face from the fan, Crookshanks’ tail brushing against her leg. She heard the sizzling sausages on the stove, the buzz of the nearby insects in the garden. Hermione exhaled shakily, reminding herself that the vile woman was dead. Shame flooded her body as she found twisted comfort in the thought. Her eyes snapped open and she continued to read.

Why then, was his case brought up three months early? Rumor has it that evidence towards the defense was given by none other than Harry Potter. The hero who conquered the Dark Lord appeared before the Wizengamot. Potter’s testimony was expected to seal a life sentence for the youngest of the Malfoy family. This unexpected, full pardon has stunned the magical community. Reporters were denied obtaining comments while exiting the Ministry of Magic.

Hermione looked back at the picture. Harry ordered the reporters to leave Draco and Narcissa alone. The two met eyes and nodded curtly at each other. Draco offered his arm to his mother, who took it, and they vanished from the spot. The picture continued to replay, like a short video on the computer. She laid the paper on the table in front of her, shaking her head in exasperation at Harry’s behavior. 

Her eyes wandered to the Slytherin boy. Draco had aged. One year of solitary confinement had hardened his boyish face. Hermione ground her teeth, drumming her fingers on the table as she looked at him. His hair was past his shoulders and he had grown facial hair during his imprisonment. Silver eyes were cold and empty, almost bored as they locked eyes with the photographer in the picture.

Harry nodded at Malfoy again. She huffed angrily through her lips, folding the paper back up and throwing it to the middle of the table. What had Harry been playing at with this trial? Why had he gotten Malfoy cleared of all charges? This wasn’t at all what Hermione thought would happen when Harry had told them all he would be speaking at Malfoy’s trial.

Had he been put under the imperius curse? Her eyes widened suddenly at the thought. No, that was foolish. She’d put enough enchantments on the Burrow to know if any unforgivables happened within ten miles. The front door opened and slammed shut. Crookshanks hissed and ran from the room.

Hermione jumped at the sound. Ginny Weasley stormed towards her, picking up a mug and slamming it down with unnecessary force. Wrenching the coffee pot up to fill her cup, she muttered darkly under her breath. Ginny huffed while slamming the pot back down, turning to Hermione and dragging a chair out. The ticking time bomb threw herself into the chair, face turning red in anger. Mrs. Weasley had been preparing breakfast. She paused at Ginny’s sudden outburst.

The door creaked open again. Harry walked into the Burrow quietly. Ron followed behind Harry, confusion on his face, but nothing like the anger Ginny was riding right now.

Hermione and Ron exchanged looks. Ron nudged his head at Ginny and then the door to the gardens. They had always been able to speak like this, even after their brief awkwardness last year. Kissing each other had seemed so natural when they were fighting to end the second Wizarding War, but afterwards… it seemed wrong.

Hermione nodded calmly, standing with her coffee. “Come on Ginny, let’s go for a walk.”

“I don’t want to go for a walk,” Ginny seethed between clenched teeth, tightening her hands on the mug in front of her, eyes glued to Harry. She looked like a snake about to strike. Her voice began to increase in volume, “I want to know why in the name of Merlin Harry stuck his nose out for that son of a b-”

“Ginny, watch your mouth!” Mrs. Weasley snapped, eyes flashing at her daughter. “I’ll have none of that under my roof.” She put her hands on her hips, pursing her lips and frowning, “Go with Hermione.”

Ginny’s brown eyes flickered dangerously for a moment. She slammed both hands down on the table, pushing her chair back and picking up her coffee, turning away from Harry and her mother. Long red hair swished through the door before it slammed loudly again as she left the room.

Everyone was silent for a long moment. Hermione watched as Harry’s eyes followed Ginny. He turned his gaze to hers. “You understand why I did it, don’t you Hermione?”

Her expression softened slightly. Her best friend needed her support. She could hear in his voice that he wanted to hear her say that she understood, and that he had done the right thing. His green eyes pleaded with her to say she had puzzled it all out.

But she couldn’t do it.

“I’m sorry Harry… but I really don’t understand,” she said quietly, crossing her arms over her chest. “Draco Malfoy acquitted? After everything that happened that year?” She shook her head in disbelief, sighing slightly. “What did you tell the Wizengamot?”

His shoulders slackened in disappointment. He rubbed the bridge of his nose, his glasses pushing up slightly on his face. “I’ll explain it to everyone at dinner,” he grumbled, walking in and sitting at the table dejectedly. Ron met Hermione’s eyes again and she looked over to Mrs. Weasley. The witch busied herself with making plates of food for all of them. Hermione used her wand to hover a couple of plates outside for herself and the fiery tempered redhead.

Ginny had thrown her mug against a tree and it had shattered. She was throwing rocks now, muttering a new string of curses under her breath. Hermione sat down at the nearby picnic table. Ginny saw the food and stormed over, throwing herself on the bench and tearing into a sausage.

Hermione had to admit she was amused that the Weasley’s never seemed to lose their appetites. She took a sip of coffee, placing it down and picking up a fork to pick at her eggs. “Why are you this angry with Harry?”

Ginny swallowed, glaring at Hermione in annoyance. “Come on,” Ginny raised her eyebrows, leaning towards her friend, “You mean to tell me you’re not the least bit upset?”

“I’m confused,” Hermione admitted, then felt another flush of anger as she recalled the image of Draco and Harry in the Prophet. “And of course I’m upset. Malfoy has been a slimy git since first year. I can’t imagine why Harry would stand up for him.” Her brown eyes narrowed slightly at Ginny, “But you seem positively put out about all this. Why?”

Ginny pursed her lips together. She was silent a moment longer, eating another length of sausage before speaking. “Lucius Malfoy,” Ginny growled lowly, “And the damned chamber of secrets. I haven’t forgotten that the whole thing never would have happened if he hadn’t slipped that book in my cauldron at Flourish and Blotts.”

Hermione nodded in agreement. “Is that why you’re upset with Harry?”

“No,” Ginny said seriously. Her anger seemed to calm for a moment. She took a deep breath. “After everything last year… I made Harry swear to me, no more secrets. No more,” she stabbed at her eggs, “Blasted,” she stuck the fork in her mouth, swallowing angrily, “Secrets.”

Hermione’s eyebrows creased slightly in concern as Ginny’s raging temper melted away. “You feel like he was hiding this from you?”

“None of us had a clue what he was up to this time,” Ginny muttered, dejectedly poking around the food on her plate. “This happened so fast. He just came back yesterday, told us what he was doing, and we all thought that Malfoy was just gonna rot like a pile of dung in the sun.” Ginny put her fork down, “I feel like he should’ve said something to us before all this went down.”

Hermione thought for a moment. She spoke quietly. “Maybe he knew we’d try to talk him out of it.”

“Damned right we would’ve,” her friend growled, eating more of her breakfast in a huff. She dropped the fork on her plate and wound her hair in one hand over her shoulder. They fell silent for a few moments. Ginny twisted her hair towards the back of her skull, putting her hands behind her head and stretching slightly. A frown etched itself on her lips as she stared up at the nearby tree for a moment. Hermione could see Ginny imagining a confrontation with Harry about all of this. A deep sigh escaped her lips as she released her hair, the anger somewhat dwindling.

“You’re right.” Ginny raised her want towards the smashed mug, flicking it once. The broken pieces came zooming back together, and the mug landed lightly on the picnic table. “He didn’t want us to talk him out of it. Let me guess, he said he’d explain at dinner?”

Hermione nodded curtly. Ginny smirked, eating the rest of her plate quickly, “Good.” Her fork settled back down on her plate, clenched fists resting on the table. “That gives me a few hours to get the story first.” Her dark eyes flickered dangerously to the house, narrowing in anger, “And remind Potter of the promise he made about secrets.”

A grimace crossed Hermione’s face as Ginny stood, fierce as a dragon, marching back to the house. Harry wasn’t going to be able to escape Ginny’s temper this time. She shook her head, picking up her fork and poking around at the food on her plate.

Her appetite had not come back after the near panic attack at the kitchen table. Hermione quickly distracted herself before those thoughts could circle back to her. Her eyes locked onto Crookshanks, who was stalking something within the nearby bushes. He pounced, and there was a sudden squeal of laughter. A cluster of gnomes darted out in all directions. Crookshanks mewed loudly, body low, preparing to dart after his chosen target.

The smell of the summer flowers wafted in the air. She closed her eyes for a moment, feeling the sun on her skin, the breeze tossing her hair around her shoulders. The gnomes squealed again. Distractions were welcome, but her appetite had long gone. Hermione pushed her plate away, lifting her coffee to her lips and silently drifting into her thoughts.


	3. Luna

Chapter Three: Luna

Returning to the Wizarding World was not without a few complications. Lucius had been put under house arrest nearly a year ago, and stripped of his title as Head of the Malfoy Family. That meant Draco, as the official heir, was now stepping in to the new title of Head of the Malfoy Family. This called for the signing of many complicated, magically binding documents. Draco had been trained since a young age to understand and accept the responsibilities facing him now.

There were several magical powers that passed down through the generations of the oldest families. Secret magic, dwelling dormant in his blood, only to be awakened when the last magical contract was signed. After that, he would be able to enter a sacred chamber of the Malfoy Manor to train the inherited magic. It was old world magic, something that couldn’t be taught, but awakened within the blood of his family. Due to the sudden loss of title, Lucius had completely lost the ability to use it or speak of it. Draco would be the first in generations to train himself alone.

Cold silver eyes blinked lightly as the first signs of sunrise winked through the room. Draco sat up slowly, left arm tingling unpleasantly. Every day started this way. Draco put a hand over the Dark Mark absent mindedly. The discomfort every morning had become routine.

Had he slept? Draco blinked, glancing around him. He sat on the floor in front of the fireplace, a couch to one side of him, table on the other. No… he had been almost in a trance, until the light began to challenge his eyes in the dark. He had been reading, there were many books surrounding him on the floor. Most of them were potion books. 

At some point in the darkness of the night, Draco had laid down on the floor, attempting to give himself over to blissful sleep. He glanced over towards his four poster bed. Deep, Slytherin green velvet curtains draped luxuriously at each corner. The soft bed looked inviting. However, Draco hadn’t touched it since his return to the Manor. 

You don’t deserve to be back here. The cold voice in his head whispered. What are you playing at, accepting the title as Head of the Malfoy Family?

Ignoring the voice, Draco walked towards his cabinet of potions. Dreamless sleep potions were terribly addictive when used long term, and Draco had been using it nearly every night since his return to the Manor. He couldn’t face the Ministry today without at least an hour of sleep. He took a spoonful, and felt his mind growing heavy.

You could brew a Draught of Living Death and mix it with the Dreamless Sleep Potion. His mind whispered as he sat on the black leather couch in front of the balcony doors. Then you could sleep… and never wake up again.

Several hours later, Draco calmly entered the Ministry of Magic. He was somewhat refreshed from the brief sleep at dawn, well dressed, closely shaven, and long hair cut just so he could pull it back in a ponytail for the time being. His robes were dark black, crisply ironed, and impeccably tailored. Shoes of dark green dragon scales clicked sharply on the marble floor of the Ministry.

Witches and Wizards seemed to give him a wide berth. Some seemed afraid of him. Others sneered at him, and he could see it from the corner of his eye. Draco pressed the button for the lift, back tall and appearing completely unfazed. Internally, his lungs felt as though they were on fire.

The lift came, and Draco stepped in alone, as no other person wished to be so close to him. As the metal slid shut, he looked out through the Ministry with his bored expression. Everyone was staring at him. Draco suddenly felt like he was on display in a cage of a zoo. His chest tightened painfully. He exhaled slowly, inhaled deeply, and exhaled slowly again. Maybe it had been a mistake to come to the Ministry to do this.

Regretfully, Draco pressed the button for the Department of Mysteries. He hadn’t understood why they handled the paperwork for Malfoy Manor, but it was out of his control. 

The lift paused on the next floor and opened unexpectedly. He came face to face with Pansy Parkinson. Her dark eyes locked to his cold gaze immediately. Draco could see it coming before she even took one step towards him.

Pansy marched inside the lift, her voice patronizing as she congratulated him for being rescued by the Hero who conquered the Dark Lord. The lift closed behind her. “Not so confident now, are you Draco?”

Her biting words continued, she insulted his parents, sneered at his long hair, and then began to blatantly accuse him of being a blood traitor. He stopped focusing on her words. The moment the lift had closed, Draco returned to focus on his breathing. He was determined to remain untouchable here. Pansy wasn’t going to ruin this for him.

Pansy’s voice rose in volume when she realized Draco wouldn’t take the bait. When the lift opened again, she raised her hand and slapped him full across the face, storming from the lift and out of sight. Draco exhaled through clenched teeth, the sting of her slap sharp against his face.

The lift closed again. He ignored the eyes that openly gawked each time the lift stopped on a floor. Soon, he made it down to the Department of Mysteries. The eerily silent hall reminded Draco of the incident several years ago when his father had first been sent to Azkaban. The memory made blood pound in his temple. That had been the night his mother had begged his father to run. Narcissa Malfoy did not beg, yet she had. The witch had pleaded with Lucius to take their family and go into hiding. Lucius had sworn that they would do so after securing this prophecy, and favor with the Dark Lord.

Then everything unraveled when Lucius had been caught.

Draco stepped through the dark black marble door to the Entrance Chamber. An Unspeakable stood there, waiting for him. They walked toward the rounded walls of the room, through an open door. Draco silently sat down to sign paperwork. The Unspeakable working with him frowned deeply at the sight of him. Draco deserved it, he knew. However, none of their displeasure would stop him from carefully reading every detail before signing.

It was mid-day by the time Draco finally finished. Just his luck, as he stepped out of the lift to the Atrium, there was a small crowd of angry protesters surrounding the fountain. Draco kept his mask in place as he tried to move beyond them. Several wands raised towards his face. Draco braced himself for pain.

Guards quickly came forward to break up the protesting group. Draco was temporarily shoved into a secret hallway behind a tapestry. It was full of windows with bright sunlight. He blinked slightly as his eyes adjusted to the change.

His feet froze when he realized he wasn’t alone. Someone stood at the other end of the hall. Luna Lovegood rushed towards Draco. He closed his eyes, turning his head slightly, preparing for the sting of her hand. It never came. He opened his eyes slowly to see Luna staring straight at his chest. She raised a hand and poked him, hard, over his heart. Draco’s eyebrows creased in confusion. He had never understood this girl.

“Hello again Draco Malfoy,” Luna spoke, as if it were perfectly normal to approach someone this way. Her eyes were still glued to his chest. “All done in the Department of Ministries?”

Caught off guard, Draco merely stared at her, uncertain what to say.

“I don’t particularly like it down there. It’s too dark. I much prefer to see you in the sunlight rather than that cellar. Wouldn’t you agree?”

“Absolutely,” Draco spoke quietly. He wasn’t sure if she was talking about Malfoy Manor or the Department of Mysteries. Glancing down at her hand, somewhat amused, somewhat disturbed by her strange greeting, he asked, “What are you are doing?”

“Oh I was just dropping off some paperwork for Rolf Scamander. He’s sharing some of his Magizoologist research.” She smiled, still staring at his chest. Draco was about to say that wasn’t what he was asking, when she continued, “Come in close contact with a Dementor, have you?” Luna lifted her large knowing to meet his. She hadn’t moved her finger, it was digging into his skin.

“Come again?” Draco asked in confusion.

Luna poked her finger a little harder, her voice suddenly strange in his ears. “You’ve got a black hole in your chest.”

Draco’s eyes widened in surprise. How in the name of Merlin could this girl see that? He couldn’t mask his face at that statement. Luna’s fingers pressed to the center of the void he had felt growing in his body for the past year.

“I haven’t seen a Dementor since the final battle,” Draco muttered quietly, reaching to brush her finger away from his chest, “They don’t guard Azkaban anymore.”

Her fingers fell away, but her eyes remained locked to his. Her strange ability not to blink bothered him. “It is what I think it is, isn’t it?” she spoke to herself, then nodded her head as though she were agreeing with someone Draco couldn’t hear. 

Luna dug in her bag and pulled a strange pendant in to sight. She threw it over Malfoy’s head. “Dad and I made some of these after Mom died,” Luna explained calmly, “The seed of a Dementor is in your heart. It was in ours, too.” Draco felt his breath catch at those words. “We’ve been giving them to others who are still healing from the final battle.” Her eyes glanced down at his chest for a moment, then she smiled at the pendant, “Oh, good, it’s working for you, too! I had hoped it might.”

He glanced down at the pendant now on his chest. It was a simple looking thing. Soft black rope held a charm of a small, silver Phoenix. The charm made him think of the order of the Phoenix. That made him think of Dumbledore. Dumbledore made him think of the Dark Mark on the astronomy tower. The astronomy tower made him-

“Oh dear,” Luna muttered sadly. Her lips had turned down at the corners. Draco’s eyes flickered towards her quickly. “This is a dark seed.” Luna pulled her wand from behind her ear, pressing it to the charm on Draco’s chest. A soft flash of silver emitted. The pendant became suddenly warm. Draco had a sudden random thought of flying over the Astronomy Tower his first year.

“That’s a bit better,” Luna said cheerfully, her mouth curving upwards again. “I’ll recharge it again the next time we meet. See you soon, Draco Malfoy.” She returned her wand behind her ear and turned to go. 

“Luna,” Draco spoke suddenly, fists clenching at his sides. The large eyed girl turned to him calmly, and he continued, “I am sorry for-”

Luna held up a hand to stop him. “I know, Draco,” her eyes glanced down towards the pendant again. She smiled. “I forgive you.”

His feet rooted to the ground. Draco’s eyes widened. His shoulders relaxed slightly. The relief that ran through him was quickly beaten down by his mind. You don’t deserve forgiveness! You deserve to crawl into a black hole and never see the sun. You shouldn’t accept this from her. Give it back!

“I hope you learn how to forgive yourself,” Luna said in her strange dreamy voice, waving farewell, “Until next time, Draco Malfoy.”

He was about to protest her forgiveness. He was about to rip the pendant from his chest and throw it back to her. However, Luna stepped through the entrance to the Atrium and was gone. Draco wasn’t sure why, but he felt a little lighter. He tucked the pendant under his shirt. The warm silver charm sat in the center of the numb spot in his chest, pressing into it, challenging its existence.


	4. Memories

Chapter Four: Memories  
Pain flared through every cell of Hermione’s body. She screamed. She couldn’t breathe. Was that her screaming? It sounded like someone else. Was she dead yet? Why was she screaming? Where was she? Hermione couldn’t think. The pain became unbearable. Was she still breathing?

The pain ended suddenly, Bellatrix Lestrange’s terrible scream of, “Tell the Truth! Tell the Truth!” ricocheted around Hermione’s pounding skull.

The pain was back- even more consuming. She wanted to die. Hermione writhed on the floor in agony, unable to stop the screams from passing her lips. Bellatrix stopped again. She was speaking. Hermione’s brain barely understood the words. She felt her own voice rasp from her throat, the sensation agony. What was she saying? She sobbed uncontrollably, “It’s a copy! Just a copy…”

Searing pain consumed her once again. Dying would be better. Dying would be so much better. Her scream tore at her throat-

“Hermione!”

Her eyes snapped open, she sat bolt upright. Ginny and George were pale, staring at her with wide brown eyes. Hermione couldn’t breathe. She sobbed, bringing her knees up to her face. She was trembling, hyperventilating, and she couldn’t stop. Ginny wrapped her arms around her tightly. “Go get Mum,” she muttered softly to George. He nodded, standing silently and drifting from the room.

Mrs. Weasley soon bustled into the room. “There, there, now, dear,” she spoke soothingly as she sat next to Ginny, “Drink this up.” She held a dreamless sleep potion in her hand, which she helped Hermione to down. Soon, Hermione slumped forward, unconscious, against Ginny.

“She’s needed that a lot recently,” George spoke quietly. He gently lifted Hermione off of Ginny, laying her back down on the bed. Ginny lifted the blankets back over Hermione, brushing her curly hair from her face. “Should we be worried about her getting addicted to that stuff, Mum?”

“Let’s not worry about that now.” Mrs. Weasley smiled tiredly at George, refusing to answer the question. She yawned slightly, kissed her daughter on the cheek, and stood to do the same to George. “Try to get back to sleep now, won’t you?”

She silently bustled from the room.

George had moved back home at the end of the battle last year. He hadn’t been able to sleep in the apartment above Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes after losing Fred. George also wasn’t able to sleep in the twin’s old room. Ginny hadn’t been able to sleep alone in her bedroom anymore. She kept having nightmares, and had begun sleepwalking. The entire house had woken several times as Ginny had crashed down the stairs. Hermione couldn’t go back home to the Muggle World. Her parents were still Obliviated in Australia. The three of them kept falling asleep in the living room, night after night.

With some tricky magic, resulting in several half-hearted lectures from Mrs. Weasley, they had succeeded in adding a new room to the side of the house. The twin’s old room remained somewhat of a memorial to Fred, and Ginny’s old room had become a bit of space for Mrs. Weasley’s knitting projects.

That was how Ginny, George and Hermione had ended up sharing a room in the Burrow. The three of them seemed to suffer from nightmares more than the rest of the family. Hermione had put a permanent silencing charm on the room so that the entire house wouldn’t be woken if they screamed in the middle of the night. George and Ginny’s had faded some over the past year. Night terrors were an irregular occurrence for them now. Hermione’s seemed to grow steadily worse and more frequent at time went on.

George pulled his long red hair out of his face as he sat back on his bed, watching Hermione. He sighed, pulling his blankets up over his legs. “I thought the mind healers were supposed to help her stop having those fits.”

“That’s what they say they’re doing.” Ginny muttered wearily, running a hand across her face and yawning as she slumped back down in her own bed.

“Load of Codswollop,” George growled. “Those mind healers just made everything worse for me. Looks like they’re doing the same to her.” Ginny frowned at George but didn’t say anything. Truth be told, the mind healers had also made things worse for her. Maybe they worked better for other people? George lay down on his back, arms behind his head, staring at the ceiling. “...Or maybe talking about Malfoy tonight triggered it.”

Ginny yawned again, falling back down against her pillow. “I’d put a hundred galleons on that bet,” she murmured, recalling the conversation they’d had hours earlier.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Dinner had been delicious. A light summer salad, butternut squash soup, soft fluffy buns, rosemary chicken legs, potatoes, and a stunningly beautiful trifle for dessert. Mrs. Weasley had a tendency to make the food even more delicious than usual when there were difficult conversations at hand. They retired to the living room with tea as the dishes began to clink softly in the sink.

Arthur sighed in contentment, kissing Molly’s cheek as she sat next to him. “That was wonderful, Molly dear. Thank you!”

A murmuring of agreement and gratitude traveled throughout the room at this. Mrs. Weasley beamed at them all for their compliments. She sat back into the couch, sighing in contentment as Arthur’s arm draped over her shoulder.

“Now then,” Mr. Weasley pressed, blue eyes peering over his glasses, “I’m sure we’d all like to hear what happened today at the Wizengamot, Harry.”

Everyone’s gaze shifted towards the dark haired man. Harry had his elbows resting on his knees, hands folded together in front of him, tea sitting untouched on the table in front of him. He inhaled deeply, then exhaled slowly, straightening his back and resting his elbow against the armrest as he scratched his hair, pondering the best place to start the story.

“Well… it started out like all the other trials,” Harry began quietly, “All those formalities, the record keeper, the witnesses to the trail...but Malfoy wasn’t there.” He frowned slightly, “That was weird. Prisoners are supposed to be there so they can speak up for themselves. His mother was there, but she wasn’t supposed to be saying anything. They went on and on with all the charges against him.”

Harry reached forward to lift his tea, took a sip, and leaned back in his chair, holding the cup in both hands as he continued, “They started trying to ask me questions but I stopped them and asked why Malfoy wasn’t present at his own trial. Somebody started to explain that Draco had attempted to murder another prisoner the first month he was there.” Harry shrugged slightly. “You read the paper. But then Narcissa stood up.”

“She did what?” Molly exclaimed, aghast. “They could’ve thrown her from the court!”

“They did.” Harry said quietly. Everyone inhaled sharply, “But not before she said her piece. She said that her son wasn’t possessed by irrational fits of rage, but that he had gone after that prisoner, because she’d been attacked. Went further to say that the guards didn’t care what happened to any of the lot of Death Eaters- not even the ones who joined Voldemort to save their families.” He exhaled deeply again, “And she said… Draco had no choice but to take the dark mark after Lucius had been sent to jail from the fiasco at the Department of Mysteries...”

Harry grit his teeth slightly and moved on quickly, as though he could still see the veil where Sirius had disappeared. “They removed her from the court after she said that. Then, I remembered… in the pensieve… Snape talked about that… how Draco had been given the task to kill Dumbledore, as a punishment… how they expected Draco to die. I’d forgotten it, with everything else that’s been going on. I asked them to retrieve the memory.”

His gaze shifted towards Hermione and Ron, “Then I told them how Malfoy didn’t identify us, the night we were captured and taken to Malfoy Manor.”

All of them tensed at the mere memory of that night. Hermione swallowed painfully, clenching her jaw. Her hand unconsciously slid to the cut at her throat, where Bellatrix’s cursed blade had pressed into her skin. Harry continued, “He knew it was us. He recognized you two, at least. I think he was lying when he said he couldn’t be sure. If Malfoy had given us up that night…”

Mrs. Weasley sniffed lightly. Harry moved on quickly.

“I expected them to sentence him to a few years,” Harry admitted, “A full acquittal? Never even crossed my mind!” His dark eyebrows rose into his hair, “It’s done now, though.” He hesitated a moment before continuing. “I went to get him from Azkaban myself.”

“Harry,” Ron interrupted, “Why in the name of Merlin’s socks would you want to go see Malfoy in Azkaban?”

“...Ron, if Draco hadn’t disarmed Dumbledore to begin with…” Hermione began slowly, “Then Harry never would have beaten Voldemort in the first place… he would’ve won when he killed Snape.”

Everyone sat in stunned silence for a few heartbeats. “Well, I’ll be damned,” George muttered, running a hand over his face, sounding uncertain, “I guess the little ferret deserves it?”

“You give him back that Hawthorn, then?” Ron inquired curiously.

“Yup,” Harry replied simply, swirling his tea, “And you’ll never guess what he said.”

George mocked Malfoy’s sneering face and tone, “Oh, what now? Famous Harry Potter come to-”

“He thanked me,” Harry interrupted.

Ginny and Hermione’s jaws dropped. A sudden burst of laughter choked the rest of George’s sentence. “He did not!” Ron bellowed in shock.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Hermione opened her eyes groggily. She sat up slowly, feeling the soft pounding in her skull that told her she’d been given a dose of dreamless sleep again. Quietly, she put on her slippers, wrapping her robe around her and tiptoeing towards the kitchen. Mrs. Weasley was sitting at the table, sitting her tea, a cup of coffee already prepared for Hermione. She sat down, lifting the hot mug to her lips gratefully, muttering a soft thanks to Mrs. Weasley.

Mrs. Weasley began to bustle about the kitchen to make breakfast, the sounds of the crickets floating in with the gentle morning breeze. Soon, the dull ache in Hermione’s head dissipated.

“Hermione,” Mrs. Weasley said as she began to lay out a few plates, “I need some help with the shopping today. Let’s go to Diagon Alley, just the two of us.”

Something about spending the day shopping with Mrs. Weasley made Hermione think about being with her own mother. It hurt her heart, and filled her with warmth all at the same time. She smiled at the woman over her mug, “I’d really like that, Mrs. Weasley.”


	5. Crucio

Chapter Five: Crucio  
Draco sat at the edge of the elaborate white marble fountain, resting his elbows on his knees. The peacocks had begun their morning ritual, pacing along the tall marble gates. At least they weren’t crying out to each other this morning.

He hadn’t slept, and he’d refused to take the dreamless sleep potion again. Draco sighed deeply. That was going to call for some experimentation. Bottom line, he couldn’t sleep without it, but he had no desire to grow addicted to it. There had to be a way to make it non-habit forming.

All night, he had searched Malfoy Manor and the surrounding property for the secret room. The room was said to house knowledge of the new, inherited powers Draco now possessed. When his Father had been stripped of his title, he’d also been stripped entirely of the memories pertaining to the power.

It doesn’t matter you can’t find it… You’re not intelligent enough to figure this out alone.

Wearily, he pressed his fingers against the bridge of his nose, feeling a slight headache behind his eyes. He’d continue the hunt another day. One of the peacocks began to cry out for its mate. The piercing sound dug into his temples. Rays of sun danced suddenly against the giant windows of the Manor. Standing, Draco walked towards the library. 

Part of the Manor had been abandoned ever since Voldemort had taken refuge in the home. Terrible memories haunted the halls, for all of them. There was a smaller dining hall and balcony just beyond the library. Narcissa had decided that they would take up their Post-War life on this side of their home.

Lucius was already sitting at the table, drinking his tea and reading the Daily Prophet with a frown. Draco glanced at the title he could see across the front of the page: Under Fire. With a flick of the wand, Draco pulled up his own coffee, adding two sugars and a bit of cream. He sipped at it in silence as he sat at the table. Coffee wasn’t his favorite, but he needed the caffeine to take the bite off his headache.

Conversations had been strained with his Father lately. Most days went like this, settling into a mildly tolerable silence until Narcissa arrived. 

Not today, though.

“I need you to do something for me,” Lucius stated, folding his paper and setting it down on the table between them. 

“Me?” Draco raised an eyebrow in curiosity. Usually his Father would send servants on errands. “Why me?” 

“Because it’s a family matter,” Lucius snapped coldly. He pulled a box from his robes and handed it to Draco, motioning for him to open it. “Take this to Diagon Alley, the jewelry shop.”

Draco opened the box and stared for a moment. There was a broken silver necklace with three emeralds sitting in the box. Bellatrix had yanked it from his mother’s neck the night that Potter and the others had gotten away. Narcissa had been extremely distraught, as it had been a gift from their mother the day Draco was born. It had possessed a special protection charm, until Bellatrix broke it. He closed the box gently, placing it down on the table. “Does Mother know about this?”

“I intend to surprise her,” Lucius continued in his icy tone. Draco wanted to roll his eyes. His parents were the only people he knew that could love each other so much, yet almost pride themselves in their ability to pretend they did not.

“She’ll notice it’s gone.” Draco commented quietly, picking up his coffee and taking another sip.

“Of course she will,” Lucius picked up the paper again, “Which is why you’ll be going as soon as they open. I expect it back this evening, fully repaired, whatever the cost.”

“Yes, Father.”

They fell back into their familiar, strained silence until Narcissa arrived to ease the tension.

An hour later, Draco found himself apparating to Diagon Alley. He’d worn a hat and sunglasses in an attempt to blend in with the morning shoppers. The jewelry shop owner was just turning the sign to open as he approached. Judging by the expression on the man’s face, he wasn’t pleased to be serving the Malfoy family, but few establishments would flat out deny a service with the price tag required for this item. It was going to take most of the day to repair. 

Draco was not looking forward to spending the day mulling around Diagon Alley. The moment someone recognized him on the street, he’d be forced to put up with an onslaught of public ridicule. His headache lingered behind his left eye. He didn’t need any help making that worse.

There were very few people out this early. A few people glanced in his direction as they hurried towards their goals. One witch paused and did a double take. Deciding that staying still was not an option, Draco began to wind his way through the streets.

He saw the Daily Prophet for sale nearby. His Father took hours reading the Daily Prophet and several other news articles every day. Draco hadn’t been able to get his hands on a copy this morning. He purchased one, and tucked it inside of his robes for later.

Wandering let him see what had changed over the past year. Several shops were still boarded up, but many seemed to be thriving once more. Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes was an eyesore compared to the surrounding shops. However, he had to begrudgingly admit that those two were well suited to the world of business.

His stomach lurched uncomfortably when he remembered that there was only one Weasley running the shop now. Unbidden, he flashed back to the Weasley family mourning the loss of their son in the Great Hall. His mind transported his mother, then his father, lying down among the dead. He shut down his thoughts, changing directions quickly. 

Ollivander’s was back. He froze at the sight of the shop. More unwanted images of Ollivander, writhing in pain... Bellatrix and Voldemort torturing the old man. He felt suddenly sick to his stomach. He ground all of his teeth together, forcing his breathing to remain calm.

Walk in there, and maybe Ollivander would Kedavra you on the spot, the merciless little voice in his head contemplated. Ignoring the thought, Draco turned away. He passed the first few hours anxiously waiting for someone to recognize him. However, most shoppers seemed so keen on their own journey, that few seemed to take any notice of him.

Around lunch time, Draco wandered towards a cafe. He silently ordered his food and drink, finding a secluded table outside. It seemed many Witches and Wizards were still hesitant to linger too long in public. Pulling out the Daily Prophet, he took in the full headline that he had missed at the table this morning. Breakouts: Azkaban Security Under Fire.

Draco froze. Was this common now? He quickly skimmed through the article. Four accused Death Eaters awaiting trial escaped late last night… First breakout since those orchestrated by You-Know-Who... Azkaban Guards unwilling to comment… Are we safe?

No. Anytime a breakout had happened, a job had been done the next day. The paper hadn’t always reported this. They hadn’t always tracked the work of the Death Eaters in real time, and the Dark Lord had muffled the paper that entire year. Draco had discovered the pattern quickly when Death Eaters took over his home. He put the paper down, mind buzzing, suddenly alert and wary from every angle. 

He had sat in a perfect location. His back was to the shop window, and the end of the alley was to his left. No one could sneak up on him from behind. His eyes glanced around quickly. His head jolted back suddenly when he saw, barely two tables away, Hermione Granger and Molly Weasley. What were they doing here? How hadn’t he noticed them approach? Why were they sitting here, when this newspaper talked about a breakout? Why was he here? Why was anyone in Diagon Alley today?

An unpleasant image of Hermione writhing on the floor under Bellatrix’s Crucio shot through his mind’s eye. Draco closed his eyes, willing it away. That was a mistake. Eyes closed, he could hear her scream. He had never seen Bellatrix torture anyone like that. His Aunt had put Draco under her Crucio several times, to train him, to teach him how to hold his tongue. He’d screamed, yes, but not like Hermione. He never wanted to hear that sound again. His silver eyes shot open, unable to withstand the memory of her scream.

Draco felt a sudden burn in his left arm. His eyes widened in shock. He knew that feeling. Silently, several masked Wizards and Witches began to converge towards Hermione and Molly Weasley.

"DOWN!" Draco roared, leaping from his seat. Both of them dove under the table without hesitation. They weren't the only ones who hit the ground. Two hexes soared just where they had been sitting, streaking past their table and narrowly missing several other people. Screams began to start all around them.

His eyes were locked on that mask. How he hated that mask. He felt a strangely familiar pounding in his ears. The mask came closer and closer to him. Or was he approaching the masked face? His wand seemed to be moving without his help, without his thought. His Petrificus Totalus spell slammed into the mask of the Death Eater in front of him. Draco stepped forward, ripping the mask off and slamming his fist into the face of Gregory Goyle. The man fell back and slammed against the hard stone with a loud clatter.

Goyle? Goyle had never been a Death Eater! Confusion seeped into Malfoy’s rage. What was going on?

Suddenly an image of brown curls caught his eye at the edge of his vision. A single thought brought him back slightly. Granger was dueling? A flash of red hair- the Weasley mother was at it, too. Draco turned. There was another one approaching the red haired woman from behind. He moved forward and raised his wand- when the red hair whipped around and slammed an awful hex to the Death Eater. The force of the attack sent Draco staggering backwards, and then an unexpected jinx hit him in the shoulder. He toppled, slamming into Granger. Both of their wands went flying. 

Draco heard the spell. “CRUCIO!”

I can’t hear her scream again! The bottom of his stomach felt like it dropped out. Without another thought, he grabbed Hermione by both arms and rolled so she was pinned to the ground. The spell hit him instead. He dug his fingers into her arms, gritting his teeth as pain spiked through every cell of his body. His back arched and a scream lit up the air before he bit his lip, drawing blood to stop it. Bellatrix’s was so much worse. He reminded himself as he forced his trembling hand to reach for his wand.

“Flipendo!” Mrs. Weasley cried. The Death Eater was knocked back through a nearby shop window and the torture ceased. Draco’s body relaxed. He grasped his wand tightly, head spinning slightly from the pain.

Suddenly, loud pops rang through the air all around them. Cries of “STUPEFY!” echoed throughout the market. Draco ducked his head under his arm, surprised to suddenly have a face full of soft, thick hair. He recoiled sharply, eyes wide. A scent of lavender and lilac followed him. Their eyes met for a brief moment before one of the red jets of light struck him in the back, and he blacked out.


	6. Shopping

Chapter Six: Shopping  
Hermione and Mrs. Weasley were the last to depart the burrow after breakfast. The quietness was strange. Mrs. Weasley was gathering her purse and finalizing her list of things she needed to buy, so Hermione sat in the living room waiting. Thoughts about how everything had happened in the past year rolled through her mind.

Arthur and Percy were back at the Ministry. A year after the death of Voldemort, and Arthur was back to the Head of the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office, although, he was proud to say, his office now had the best windows in the whole Ministry. Percy was back to his post as the Junior Assistant to the Minister of Magic. Kingsley Shacklebolt had reinstated Percy’s position following the war. Bill and Fleur remained at Shell Cottage, Bill working with the Goblins of Gringotts to enhance their security without the use of tortured Dragons. Charlie returned to Romania after the war, taking Hagrid with him last summer to reunite with Norberta. Ginny would go back to Hogwarts for her seventh year following the summer break, but she had enrolled in a summer Quidditch training program that took up her week days. George had returned to running Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes, with his friend Lee Jordan as a new business partner. Lee and George seemed to bring each other out of their darkness when their grief for Fred threatened their sanity.

When they had shared plans with the family that morning, George had absolutely insisted that they stop by the shop first, to have tea and see the new products he and Lee were cooking up.

“Hermione?”

Unsurprisingly, Ron and Harry had moved immediately into Auror training following the final battle. Kingsley had allowed them to do so without so much of a hint of asking for their N.E.W.T. scores.

Hermione had been the only one of the trio to return to Hogwarts to complete her education. She’d insisted on doing the whole thing properly. Professor McGonagall took her on as a teaching assistant to the first year transfiguration students, which provided Hermione with a stipend that covered her expenses, and built a small savings in Gringotts.

Ron and Harry had balked at the idea of returning to Hogwarts, after everything that had happened. They didn’t understand. After the war, she’d traveled to Australia to attempt to undo the magic herself. It had been a catastrophic failure. Her own Father had called the police, and she’d been forced to disappear. 

When Hermione returned to the burrow, sobbing uncontrollably, Arthur had put in a few calls to friends at the Ministry. Within a week, St. Mungo’s Healers had volunteered to come with her to Australia to try and mend the memory charms Hermione had cast to protect them. No one was able to undo the damage that had been done. Wendell and Monica Wilkins remained obliviated.

Hermione had clung to the last tiny hope that Hogwarts would hold the key to bring them back to her. She’d been given access to every book in the school, but… nothing.

“Hermione?”

A small lump caught in her throat at the thought. She inhaled deeply and exhaled, swallowing hard. Just a few weeks ago, Hermione had graduated. Her Mom and Dad hadn’t been there to congratulate her, or hug her, or tell her how proud they were. Surrounded by the Weasley’s, Harry, Hagrid, and Professor McGonagall that day was wonderful, but their presence didn’t make up for the absence of her parents. 

Letters were coming daily with job offers for Hermione from all across the Wizarding World. Graduation night, Hermione returned to the burrow to a stack of twenty letters lying on her bed. Many more arrived daily, and she calmly tucked them into a box under her bed, unopened, without a reply. As a Graduation gift, countless Witches and Wizards around the world had sent generous donations to her vault in Gringotts. When Hermione had protested this, Mrs. Weasley had just smiled and handed her a gigantic box of thank you cards for her to send back to her well wishers. Hermione was now immensely grateful to have been given such a generous gift, so that she could take her time to figure things out.

“Hermione?” Mrs. Weasley laid a hand on her shoulder gently. “Didn’t you hear me calling you?”

Brown curls bounced as she jumped, turning her gaze quickly to Mrs. Weasley. “Sorry,” Hermione gasped, standing, “I got lost in thought.”

Mrs. Weasley gave her a serious searching look for a brief moment. It startled Hermione. The woman then smiled, turning towards the front door, “Ready then?”

“Er- yes!” Hermione said quickly, following Mrs. Weasley. She reached to adjust her handbag to realize it was missing. “Oh- no, not quite… what did I do with my handbag?”

“You’re wearing it, dear!” Mrs. Weasley laughed softly. 

Hermione paused, reaching back to her shoulder. She was wearing it. But… she’d just felt it missing. That was strange… she shook her head slightly, smiling sheepishly, “Of course I am.”

Sunshine warmed her face and hands as she stepped outside. The two witches walked outside the protection spells of the Burrow so they could apparate. Fragrant floral breezes floated from the garden. She inhaled deeply, smiling slightly. It was a beautiful morning. Deciding that this would be a good day, she turned on the spot, apparating in front of Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes to join George and Lee for tea.

George and Lee were thrilled to see them both. They’d left the shop in the hands of employees to take the ladies on the roof. Lee had transformed it into a beautiful rooftop garden. “Mostly the Muggle way,” he said with a wink at Mrs. Weasley. “George interfered with a few growing charms.”

“It was so slow, Lee,” George argued with a grin, “I was just… helping it along!”

Hermione smiled softly to notice how George had adopted his mother’s habit of always having too much food. Three self-pouring tea pots of different flavors, self-stirring teacups and an endless supply of cookies and treats floating on plates around the table. Everyone sat down and the dishes began to serve them quickly. The teapots immediately determined which tea would be best suitable for each person at the table, and served the tea exactly to their liking. George no longer spared any expense. They began to drink and nibble as George and Lee rocketed through explanations of their new products. Several times, Mrs. Weasley and Hermione nearly had tea coming out of their noses.

After an hour or two, Mrs. Weasley declared that they really did need to be on about their shopping. They said their goodbyes, George calling out that he’d love to have those delicious meatballs for dinner. The red haired woman smiled at her son. Hermione saw her shopping list magically float out of her pocket, and a self-writing quill added his request to the list. George beamed at her. The notepad was yet another one of his carefully sought out gifts. George had made certain that his parents would never have to worry about money again, and he enjoyed being able to spoil them with every useful and interesting object he could find.

Shopkeepers beamed as Hermione and Mrs. Weasley entered. Everywhere they went, managers came to greet them and assist with the purchases. They flat out refused to allow the women to carry the heavy parcels, insisting to allow them to mail the packages home. Hermione merely smiled as she charmed all the purchases to easily fit in her handbag. Each time she did this, shopkeeper’s jaws dropped in surprise. Mrs. Weasley was chuckling as they left their final shop.

“You know, Hermione, there’s something I wanted to talk to you about,” Mrs. Weasley declared in a very motherly voice. “How about we have a sit down, and get a bite of lunch at that new cafe?”

“The appetite of your family will never cease to amaze me,” Hermione groaned, putting a hand over her stomach. “I’ll just have something to drink.”

Hermione ended up with a delicious raspberry flavored iced tea, and a small chicken salad at Mrs. Weasley’s insistence. They sat down at a table in the sunshine, and Mrs. Weasley calmly went charging into the conversation. “I think that Mind Healer of yours isn’t doing you any good. I want you to go back to St. Mungo’s for a re-evaluation.”

She’d expected this. Night terrors would come, and there would be no memory of them happening. Ginny had started helping her keep a log of them over the last few months at Hogwarts, and George had the thought to add in the doses of the dreamless sleep potion after Graduation. The evidence was undeniable: frequency and severity had been steadily increasing for weeks. She was about to reluctantly agree when several things happened all at the same time. 

"DOWN!" a voice roared. Hermione and Mrs. Weasley dove under the table without hesitation. Two hexes soared just where they had been sitting, streaking past their table and narrowly missing several other people. A man ran past their table, in the direction where one of the spells had been cast. Loud screams began to start all around them.

Hermione ripped her wand from her bag, looking quickly to see none other than Draco Malfoy fiercely dueling down a masked Death Eater. Her blood ran cold for a moment. She hadn’t seen that mask in a year. What was going on? Another spell shot towards her. A shield charm silently flicked from her wand and she whirled around, beginning to duel, counting them- one, two, three, four, five, six- Mrs. Weasley’s Oppugno Jinx sent the tables and chairs of the cafe flying through the air, sending a death eater toppling beheathe their weight. His screaming became muffled as the tables began to crush him.

That left five. Hermione barely blocked a nasty Stinging Jinx, sending a well aimed Pimple curse in the face of the nearest masked figure. He howled, dropping his wand to the ground.

Four left. Mrs. Weasley was facing off another. Hermione saw the one Draco was dueling hit the ground.

Three.

Hermione quickly cast a shield charm, then lifted her wand to retaliate with her own Oppugno Jinx when someone crashed into her. The breathe was knocked out of her as she slammed painfully to the ground, wand flying from her hand. 

Hermione’s body froze as she heard the spell. “CRUCIO!”

NO! Not again! She went rigid as terror iced her insides. Hands roughly grabbed Hermione by both arms and rolled her over, pinning her back to the ground. He screamed, body locking in pain as the spell hit him instead. Hermione stared, unable to comprehend what was happening. Draco Malfoy. She saw him bite his lip, drawing blood to stop screaming. A trembling hand fought the pain to reach for his wand.

“Flipendo!” Mrs. Weasley cried. The Death Eater was knocked back through a nearby shop window and the torture ceased. His body relaxed. He grasped his wand tightly, silver eyes glaring towards the Death Eater that had cast the Crucio spell.

Suddenly, loud pops rang through the air all around them. Cries of “STUPEFY!” echoed throughout the market. Malfoy ducked his head down to avoid the spells, his face pressing momentarily near her neck and shoulder. He recoiled quickly, eyes wide. Hermione was still unable to think. Draco Malfoy? Their eyes met for a brief moment before one of the red jets of light struck him in the back, and he collapsed sideways off of her.


	7. When it Rains...

Chapter Seven: When it rains...  
Draco opened his eyes painfully. Sound was muffled and warped. Where was he? He blinked slowly, trying to clear his vision. Eventually, shapes came into focus. He was in a bed. Why was he in bed? Raised voices pounded into his skull. Wincing, pushing himself upright, he turned his head.

Someone was sitting in the chair at the side of his bed. Black hair. Green eyes. He knew that combination anywhere. “Po’errr… waz’ wwwron’ wifff emee?” Draco managed to slur, rubbing his face with his hand.

The voice still seemed muffled, but it was closer to him and easier to distinguish than the shouting at the door. “You got hit with about six stunning spells… surprised you’re already awake….”

He saw a familiar looking potion next to his bed, and tried to reach for it. The movement caused his vision to spin. “Pepperrr… uuup… potionnn,” Draco growled, closing his eyes. Potter pushed the goblet in his hand. He downed it immediately. The fuzziness around him cleared.

“IS THAT A THREAT?” a voice roared at the doorway, “You go get Kingsley Shacklebolt in here with that order, then, because I’m telling you right now I won’t have it! I’m not letting you take him back to Azkaban.” The voice rose dangerously again, “That boy was fighting with us, not against us! Don’t you look at me like that. YES I AM QUITE SERIOUS! Go get the Minister of Magic in here if you want him leaving with you. Now, for the last time, I’ve already told you, I WON’T have it! I’ve had quite enough of this. Go! Get out! OUT!”

Draco blinked confusedly at the doorway. Mrs. Weasley stood there, finger jabbing at the chest of a burly six foot tall Wizard with a scar over his left eye. The man was staring at her as if she had three heads. Her fiery gaze stared down four officials from Azkaban, electric with fury. She was easily a foot or two shorter than any of the Wizards standing there, but they all appeared to shrink under her wrathful gaze. Slowly, they shuffled out of the room without a backwards glance.

Potter smiled amusedly at the sight. “Looks like you’ve got yourself a friend in the family, now, Malfoy.”

Mrs. Weasley whirled around, clutching a hand to her heart with a gasp of relief, “Oh he’s awake! Hermione?” She stuck her head out the door, “Hermione, he’s awake, go and get the Healer!”

Draco felt like he was in a strange play. Where was his mother? Why was the Weasley mother here, when his own was missing? A terrible thought struck him suddenly. 

“Potter, has my family been notified?” he asked quickly.

A nod. “An owl was sent immediately.”

Relief washed through his skin. “Where’s my mother?”

“She sent an owl saying she was tending to something with your father, and that she’d be here soon,” Harry pulled the letter from his pocket and handed it to Draco.

“No…” Panic exploded in Draco’s chest as he dropped the letter. “That’s not her hand writing.” Without another thought, he ripped the sheet off of him, standing and turning on the spot to apparate. Potter’s hand caught him, and the two soon stumbled on to the outer barrier of the Manor. Draco bolted through the garden, heart pounding in his chest. He could hear Potter calling him, another set of feet pounding on the ground.

Tell me I’m wrong. Please be wrong. Draco’s mind chanted as his footsteps echoed strangely in the halls of the Manor. Tell me I’m wrong. Please be wrong. He bolted straight to the library, glancing to the empty balcony, and then to the two bodies, motionless at the dining room table. Tell me I’m wrong. Please be wrong. Lucius was slumped forward on the table, blood covered his robes and the floor. Tell me I’m wrong. Please be wrong. Draco saw the back of the chair with Narcissa’s motionless arm hung over the side. Tell me I’m wrong. Please be wrong.

The moment he stepped in the room, a sudden frigid cold penetrated his body to the core. An icy hand grasped his throat, pushing him back against the wall. Dementor. Draco’s hand fumbled for his wand.

They’re both dead. You’ve nothing left to live for, now. The cruel voice bit at him in his mind. Draco’s eyes flickered to Lucius’ corpse-like frame, then to Narcissa’s deathly pale complexion. The world seemed to darken around him. His wand slid from his fingers to the floor. The Dementor’s face approached his.

Something warmed against Draco’s chest. A silvery shape burst forward, knocking the Dementor backwards, forcing the hand to release him. Draco collapsed to the floor.

“Uuugh…” Narcissa moaned, tossing her head to the side. Draco’s heart leapt in his throat. She wasn’t dead yet. His eyes fixed on the silvery shape. It was a Hare? It bounced about, pushing the dementor down into the library. The hare was flickering out of sight. He fumbled for his wand, but then Potter’s voice roared and blinding silver stag charged the Dementor out of the house.

Feet pounded up the stairs and froze at the sight. Draco didn’t pause. He moved to the fireplace, taking a handful of floo powder from the mantle and throwing it into the fire. “St. Mungo’s Crisis Recovery!” Draco bellowed into the flames. Four witches and wizards immediately stepped out of the fireplace. They hurried past him and began casting spells to stabilize Narcissa and Lucius for transport.

Draco kept his eyes on his parents the entire time. His insides felt hollow. How long had they been like this? The entire time he’d been stunned? The amount of blood on the ground… how was Lucius alive... or was he? The thought made Draco dizzy. He stumbled to the table, hands landing flat on the polished wooden surface to catch him. A card sat there, between his hands. For a long moment, he stared at it. Where did that come from and why was it here?

Malfoy

Black ink, nothing recognizable about the print. He flipped the card over.

Blood Traitors will pay. Body, mind and soul.

He clenched his jaw and slammed both fists down on the table with a scream. He’d been right. As a sickening wave of pain shot up his arms, he also realized he’d broken his hands. The stunning spells, a pain in his shoulder, the icy hand of the Dementor on his neck, the sight and smell of his Father’s blood, the ache now in his own bones was too much. Draco fell to his knees, unconscious before his head hit the ground.

This time when his eyes opened, it wasn’t Potter at his bedside. Two women sat there, speaking quietly to each other, as though trying not to wake him. Draco flexed his fingers experimentally. Pain shot through the digits. He hissed slightly, and saw one of them jump. The other turned her head expectantly, as though she knew it was time for him to waken. “Hello again, Draco Malfoy.”

Luna Lovegood? Merlin’s beard, why was she here? He rolled his eyes open glaring to see Ravenclaw and Gryffindor at his bedside. Hermione Granger sat next to Luna, her brown eyes wide in surprise. 

“Why are you here, Lovegood?” Draco snarled as he struggled to sit up from the bed.

“Oh, I thought that was obvious,” Luna pulled out her wand and pressed it to the charm hidden under his shirt. A silver light flashed again, “I told you I’d recharge it the next time I saw you. Here I am, and there it’s done.”

“What was that, Luna?” Granger’s voice asked, curious brown eyes flickering from Draco’s chest back to Luna’s face.

“It’s a charm that holds a Patronus,” Luna replied dreamily, using her wand with one hand to twirl her hair up in a casual bun. “I felt it charge a dementor a little while ago. Said I’d see you soon, Draco Malfoy.” She turned her eyes back to Hermione, “He hasn’t asked you why you’re here, though. Was he expecting you? Were you going to ask him why he took that Crucio curse for you?”

Hermione and Draco both froze. Draco’s mouth went dry. He glanced towards Hermione, who had eyes locked on Luna in astonishment. Hermione found her voice first, “Luna… how… how do you know about that?”

“Am I not supposed to know about it?” Luna pondered as though to another person. “Hmm… yes I see how that could be confusing. Well, aren’t you going to answer the question, Draco Malfoy?”

Hermione’s intelligent dark eyes met cold silver. He sneered slightly, “Me? Take a Crucio curse for Granger?” Draco laughed darkly, “I think you’re ready to chuck yourself in the loony bin, Lovegood.”

To his immense surprise, Luna laughed brightly at the insult. She made no sense. “Why are you two here?” Draco asked before she could press him for any more answers.

“Harry wanted someone to stay with you.” Hermione replied, hesitating slightly before continuing, “There’s... still some concern about the Azkaban guards trying to drag you back to prison. We figured, they couldn’t take you if some of us took your side.”

“Some of us?” Malfoy snarled, “Heroes of the Final Battle, you mean?” He snorted, “As if the word of one of you would make them change their minds about me.” Hermione frowned at him. Damn, it felt good to feel angry. He’d been numb more than anything lately- numb, burdened with guilt, afraid, brittle. Anger made him feel better.

Luna frowned suddenly, turning her gaze to Hermione. “Mrs. Weasley is right, you know.” Hermione’s hair whipped around her face as she turned to stare at Luna. “Hmm… I think it’s time for me to meet up with Neville. I’m going to meet his parents for tea today. Yes. Well, bye for now, Hermione, Draco Malfoy.” Her long hair tumbled from her bun as she pulled her wand away, tucking it behind her ear again as she walked out the door.

“What did she mean, Mrs. Weasley is right?” Draco questioned the moment the door shut.

“It’s nothing,” Hermione muttered embarrassedly. 

“And meeting Longbottom’s parents?” Draco pushed with a hint of irritation in his voice at being denied an answer.

“It’s none of your business,” Hermione snapped irritably.

“Granger, if you’re not going to answer any of my questions, go and call for a Healer, would you?” Malfoy nodded his head to the door, “I want an update about my parents.”

“I… I have it…” Hermione squeaked quietly, raising a folder.

“What do you mean, you have it?” Malfoy spat, reaching for it. His hand gave another terrible throb and all he managed to do was knock the folder from her hand, papers scattering everywhere. Hermione immediately knelt down to pick all of them up. “Why didn’t you just charm them back to the folder?” Draco mused in confusion.

She went slightly red. “Oh… I… I didn’t think to do it that way.”

Muggle-borns… Draco thought exasperatedly in his head. She put the papers back in order. The way her eyes glanced at the papers told him something. “You’ve already read it, haven’t you?”

Hermione’s hands paused. She swallowed slightly and gave a small nod. 

“You know that’s illegal, to read someone else’s private medical facts?” Draco hissed, enjoying the fact that he could get a rise out of her.

“I…” Hermione closed the folder and pushed it into his lap without another word. He couldn’t open it. His fingers were still on fire.

A popping sound filled the air as a miniature healer appeared overtop of the bedside table. It spoke in a clear voice. “You’re due for another dose of skele-gro.” A potion bottle appeared next to the small healer. “Your Healer will be here shortly. Please take your medication.” It disappeared with a small pop.

Hermione picked up the potion and fumbled with the lid. Draco rolled his eyes, painfully picking up his wand, he waved it at the bottle. The lid turned smoothly and landed on the table. A small glass floated over, the skele-gro poured in it and he magicked the cup to his mouth, downing the horrible liquid. He coughed harshly after forcing himself to swallow the foul potion, stunned when a second cup met his hand. Water. He tried to grip the glass but it slipped from his hand painfully. Growling in irritation, he raised his wand again and forced himself to drink the water.

“I’ll never understand why Muggle-borns insist on doing everything by hand,” he muttered under his breath.

“And I’ll never understand why Wizards insist on using magic all the time,” Hermione snapped back at him, “Honestly it won’t kill you to use your hands once in a while.”

“...Granger, have you gone soft in the head?” Malfoy asked in a slightly amused tone. “You know why I’m drinking the damned potion to begin with, don’t you?”

She blinked. Her eyes turned back to the bottle. She blinked again. This was strange behavior. A red tinge invaded her cheeks again, “Well, you know what I meant.” she snapped at him as she sat back in her chair, crossing her arms over her chest.

“How about you open this folder for me so I can read what’s going on with my parents?” Draco drawled in a bored tone, although his heart hammered as the words passed his lips, “Unless you’re going to give me a textbook summary of it all.”

Furiously, she leaned forward, ripping open the folder and spreading the documents out so he could read all of them. Then, she sat back in her chair, crossing her arms and legs this time.

He almost wished she had refused.


	8. Breaking

Chapter Eight: Breaking  
Hermione watched Draco’s face as his eyes took in the documents. He sucked air between his teeth sharply and held his breath. She closed her eyes for a moment, clearly seeing the documents laid out in front of him.

St. Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries: Long-Term In-Patient Authorization Form - Crucio/Mental Damage

St. Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries: Long-Term In-Patient Authorization Form - Imperius/Attempted Suicide

St. Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries: Consent to Treatment

St. Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries: Consent for Prolonged Charm-Induced Coma

Draco exhaled shakily, closing his eyes for a moment. Hermione felt a strange ache in her chest. Sympathy? She felt sympathy for Malfoy? Her eyes softened as she remembered what Harry had said when he’d brought Malfoy back to the hospital. The scene at the Manor sounded horrific. Hermione knew she’d be crushed if her parents had ever been in a state like that. His eyes snapped open and he waved his wand, quill appearing in midair. Cringing as he took the quill in his hands, he pressed the tip to the parchment.

“Your hands!” Hermione cried as there was a strange popping sound as he wrote.

“They’ll be fine,” he growled through clenched teeth. “Nothing can happen for them until these forms are signed, Granger.” He struggled to pick up the next form, “I’m not having them sit around like that any longer.”

Hermione moved closer, reaching for the next form to bring it closer for him to sign. Malfoy paused only for a moment to glance at her before continuing to sign. A few more strange sounds from his hands, and the forms vanished in a small cloud of purple smoke. The miniature Healer appeared again with a new bottle of potion, “Please refrain from actions causing further injury to your hand. This is a pain-reducer. You will be injected with this once every hour.”

“Injected?” Malfoy narrowed his eyes at the small Healer, “What do you mean, injected?”

A small blue arrow formed in midair from the bottle. It shot towards Malfoy’s arm and disappeared into his skin. He howled in pain and surprise, slamming his hand over the spot and going slightly pale. “I hate shots…”

“That’s a shot?!” Hermione gaped at the small vial. The miniature Healer vanished again.

“Haven’t you been to the Healers in the Muggle world, Granger?” Malfoy muttered, trying to gently rub his arm, “You’ve got to get shots just like us in the Muggle world, don’t you?”

“Well, of course,” She began, still looking at the small bottle in surprise, “But… Doctors use needles. They pull the medicine out of the vial, and stick it in your arm.”

Malfoy looked horrified at the idea, “They shove a bloody needle in to you?” He blanched, “And you let them?”

“That’s the way it’s done in the Muggle world,” Hermione turned her eyes back to him.

The door opened. Ron Weasley stood at the doorway. His face looked as if someone had set off a dung bomb under his nose. He frowned as he glanced around the room, a wooden box under his arm. Draco groaned, rolling his eyes. “What are you doing here, Weasel?”

Ron tensed for a moment at the doorway, then seemed to brace himself and walked in, standing on the other side of Draco’s bed. He struggled with something for a moment, then took a deep breath. “Look, Malfoy, it’s no secret that you’re a piece of dragon dung, but-”

“How positively charming of you to come here to throw some insults at my bedside, Weasley,” Draco interrupted dryly, leaning back on his pillows. “Shouldn’t an Auror have something better to do than play Nurse?”

Narrowed blue eyes glared down at the man in the bed. Ron defiantly pulled up a chair and sat down, holding the box in his lap. His hands tightened on the corners as he shifted his gaze across the bed. “Hermione, don’t you have somewhere to be?” he growled through clenched teeth, nodding his head at Malfoy. “That’s why Harry asked me to come stand guard over this ferret, isn’t it?” 

Hermione stared at him for a moment. She blinked. Then jumped to her feet. “Oh, Ron, you’re right, I completely forgot! Today has been such a strange day.”

She caught Malfoy narrowing his eyes slightly, examining her as she stood. Gathering her purse, she went to the door and Ron continued. “You’re a piece of work, Malfoy… but you were there for my Mum, and Hermione in Diagon Alley.” Ron inhaled as though the next words pained him, “Thank you.”

Hermione froze at the door, pausing to look back. Draco was looking at Ron in a mix of confusion, amusement and bewilderment. Ron had been quite serious. “Purely coincidence,” Draco drawled, collecting himself. His silver eyes caught her gaze, “Granger, are you going, or not?”

“She’s leaving,” Ron said firmly, he opened the box he had in front of him, “And you’re gonna play some wizard chess to pass the time.”

“Oh joy,” Malfoy muttered sarcastically as Hermione pushed out of the door, “When I win, do I get to hit you upside the head with the box?”

“Only if I get to do it when you lose.”

A grin crossed her lips as the door closed behind her. She shook her head. Malfoy usually annoyed the hell out of her. Today, for some reason, it seemed tolerable. Maybe it was because of Luna. A gentle warmth pressed against her chest from the charm Hermione wore under her shirt. There had been no mention about a Patronus inside of it when the wide eyed girl had given it to her back then. She’d just said Hermione needed one. She’d felt better with it on, so she’d kept wearing it. Now that made sense… but why had Luna given one to Malfoy, too?

She shook her head free of distractions. Mrs. Weasley had set up an appointment in St. Mungos for Hermione weeks ago. The trip to Diagon Alley was purely a ruse to get Hermione out of the house for this appointment. She’d offered to sit with Hermione during the session, but this was something she wanted to do herself. In truth, she was almost terrified of what they would find. 

The diagnostic room was across from the long term ward. A patient began to cross the hall. Her feet froze. Appalled, she stared at the face of Narcissa Malfoy. Her hair was no longer neat and tidy, and her skin was a wrong, sickly pale color. A cluster of four or five diagnostic healers were moving with the floating bed, each trying to take a reading of a different area of the brain. The sound of Draco’s bones breaking again as he signed the forms rang in her ears. She shuddered slightly, turning quickly to enter the diagnostic ward.

Hermione sat still in a diagnostic chair. Several witches and wizards whirled around her, wands seeming to trace something in her head she couldn't see. Five minutes later, they thanked her. One of them explained that her results would be reviewed immediately and she'd be meeting with the Diagnostic Healer shortly.

Pretty normal procedure. She'd been through this last summer. Mrs. Weasley had been the one to sort out the appointments for the entire Order then, as well. It would take about five or ten minutes for the Healer to review the results. Then, one of them would enter, show her the scan, explain what was normal or abnormal, and she’d be on her way. In the meantime, she was taken to a small, comfortable room with pale blue walls. Hermione pulled a book from her bag to distract her as she waited: Olde and Forgotten Bewitchments and Charms. Searching for clues to bring back her parents never ended.

Twenty minutes later, the door opened to reveal a short, smiling woman with perfectly straight black hair. “Good afternoon, Ms. Granger, my name is Healer Amy. I had down that Mrs. Weasley would be accompanying you today?”

“I asked her to let me come alone.” Hermione replied with a smile, tucking her book away. “I didn’t want her to spend all day waiting for me.”

The Healer gave a small nod, then clasped her hands in front of her, taking a calm breath before continuing, “...I have some difficult news, Ms. Granger.” She continued seriously, warm hazel eyes looking concerned. “Are you certain there is no one you wish to be here with you?”

Hermione felt her breath catch painfully in her throat. She quickly shook her head no.

“Alright,” Amy the Healer said quietly, sitting at the table and flicking her wand. Two images appeared on a piece of paper in front of Hermione. “Here,” she pointed to the image on the left, “This scan was taken last year, after the final battle. We did a full body and mind scan to make sure there was nothing too surprising. You already knew about some of the minor damage from the Crucio spell.” Amy tapped a few red areas in the brain scan. Her fingers moved to the image on the right. “This is the scan we did just now. What we see is a cluster of damaged brain cells, surrounding the old. Normally, improvement should be seen a year out. The fact that this has become worse is cause for concern.”

Hermione felt her mouth going dry. She forced herself to remain logical. “Why is this happening?”

Amy folded her hands in front of her, “We don’t know. There are a few suspicions, but I can’t be sure without further testing.”

Hermione felt her heart pound painfully in her throat. “So… what do I do? What are my options?”

“Treatment will be necessary,” Amy stated firmly.

“Tell me your suspicions.” Her steady voice surprised her. 

Amy paused for a long moment before answering. “It is well known that Bellatrix Lestrange’s Crucio curse was particularly heinous… That is the only explanation I can think of.”

“What will happen if I do nothing?”

“...doing nothing is not an option at this stage, Ms. Granger,” Amy’s soft voice could have been a shotgun to Hermione’s ears. “The fact that these scans show such different pictures tells us that it is necessary to begin treatment as soon as possible.”

A panic attack was bubbling in her chest. “Does this mean… it’s degenerative?”

“We don’t know,” Amy said calmly, but Hermione had stopped listening. She knew enough about healing to read between the lines here. Her eyes raked the two images side by side. Degeneration really was the only possible explanation. Nothing else had changed.

“Is it reversible?” Hermione asked quickly, folding her hands together tightly in her lap. 

“There is no evidence to believe it is not. We need to schedule more tests.” Amy tried to speak soothingly. Hermione’s brain was already far beyond this room. Bellatrix continued to haunt her life, even through death. Would she end up like Gilderoy Lockhart? No, no he had obliviated himself with Ron’s wand. He hadn’t been tortured with the Cruciatus curse.

Did this mean she was going to end up like Neville's parents? Hermione had a vision of herself, in a simple white gown, with Harry and Ron visiting her, while her painfully oblivious to their presence. She remained unaware of the world around her, unable to communicate, lost. How much time did she have left? Her breathing felt shallow. She was on the verge of tears. “What… what am I going to…to lose first?” Hermione whispered painfully, her vision blurring, eyes hot.

Amy waved her wand. A calming draught appeared on the table. The bottle dispensed a large dosage, floating to Hermione, who downed it immediately. A painful bubble in her chest dissipated and her breathing calmed. She put the cup back down on the table.

“We can't fully predict what is going to happen.” Amy pressed firmly, “This is a rare condition. We need to focus on what we can do presently, not on what might or might not happen in the future. Please, slow down, Ms. Granger.” Amy smiled at her, “You’re not going to be losing anything quickly, that much I can assure you. It has taken a year for the damage to progress this far. That tells us it isn’t an immediate danger right now. Judging by these scans, we can guess it may impact parts of your memory, and attention. Have you noticed any recent changes in those areas in your daily life?”

Hermione's gut twisted as she recalled several hiccups just today. She nodded silently. “Are there any other changes you've noticed?”

“Night terrors,” Hermione said quietly, “From the night Bellatrix tortured me. They've been getting out of hand over the past couple of months. I’ve kept a log of their frequency and severity.”

“I would like to take a look at your logs. Please, continue to track these things.” The Healer began to speak while waving her wand over the table. “I suggest beginning a daily out-patient treatment plan, here at the hospital.” A folder and several documents, including a daily schedule for the next month appeared on the table. “We will start with a basic regiment of potions to counter the effects we can see, and predict for the short term. Then, you'll begin a treatment plan meant for patients who have suffered physical brain damage caused by magical accidents. Brain scans will be done weekly to track your progress.”

“And what happens if that were to fail?”

Hermione saw the Healer hesitate for a moment. “There are several experimental treatment options. We will go into that later if we fail to see improvement within the month.”

Though the Healer said if, Hermione felt a ring of “when” in the tone. 

“If you wish to proceed with this plan, you'll need to sign our consent to treatment form.” Amy's wand produced a more paper, “I'll give you a few moments to read through everything. I'll answer any questions you have when I return.” Rising, the small witch let herself out through the door, which clicked softly as it shut behind her. 

It might as well have been the slamming of doors to a cell at Azkaban. Hermione sat stone still after the Healer left the room. Mom… Dad… she closed her eyes, two single tears sliding down her cheeks. I need you...


	9. Damaged

Chapter Nine: Damaged  
How in the hell is this happening? Draco stared down in shock, unable to comprehend anything. This can’t be real… it just can’t be real!

He narrowed his eyes at the cold chess board. How in the hell is Weasley doing it?

The first game, nearly twenty minutes, had been a challenge. Draco considered himself somewhat decent at wizard’s chess. He thought that this red headed buffoon was supposed to be the dumb one in that trio. Now, he had a sore spot on the side of his head when the red-headed victor had wasted no time making good of their agreement with the box. Its pounding seemed to recede when the pain medication darted at him. A howl of pain escaped him, and Ron laughed until tears rolled down his face.

“Another round, Malfoy?” Ron asked with a shit eating grin, waving his wand at the board so the pieces returned to their places.

Malfoy had never seen such an elegant board. The case itself bore the Weasley family crest. Black velvet lined the inside of that box. The board was enchanted to float level in the air and would move to each player to give them the best vantage point of the game. The squares of the board itself shimmered almost like gemstones. Dark, beautifully polished wood surrounded the edge of the board, and underneath it there were red velvet lined slots for each individual game piece. The pieces themselves were carved with intricate details, and their voices were clear and strong. All of them seemed incredibly knowledgeable about the game, which usually only happened as a board aged over time. When they were struck, they sunk through the board, returning to their velvety home.

“How in the world did you manage to afford a board like this? Surely an Auror’s salary isn’t enough.” Malfoy burst uncontrollably in anger, trying to vent his loss at his opponent. Weasley roared with laughter. Malfoy grit his teeth. Was Granger the only person he could rile up now? First Lovegood, now this idiot, laughing to his face, when he was trying to shut them up.

“Christmas gift from my dear brother,” Ron choked out when the laughter had faded. He shot Malfoy a shit eating grin, “Up for another round?”

A Healer walked through the door, then, followed quickly by Harry Potter. “Ron, I need you,” Harry said quickly. “Malfoy, you’re good. The Healers have assured me that you won’t be taken,” he gave the same grin as Ron when he saw the game floating between them, “Oh, don’t tell me I’ve missed it, Ron!”

“Didn’t you say you needed this idiot for something?” Malfoy spoke through his teeth, glaring at the black haired man. The two laughed at his irritation. The board packed itself and Ron took it, following Harry out quickly, both waving their goodbye.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Malfoy. My name is Healer Thomas.” He was a tall, dark skinned man with dark brown eyes. The Healer opened a chart and began to speak, “Your hands were a physical injury, so there is no lingering magical residue to examine. I believe you will be healed within the next few hours. We normally keep patients overnight after the use of Skele-gro-”

“No.” Draco stated calmly, “I’ll be leaving once the healing has been completed.”

Thomas nodded curtly, closing the folder. “I’m also the Healer in charge of your parent’s care. Would you like a full update of their status and condition?”

Draco felt his breathing stop. The words left his mouth before he could stop them, “No, I want to see them first.”

“You can not visit your Father at this time,” Thomas stated firmly. He thought for a moment, “You may see your Mother, but she is still unconscious and unresponsive.”

“Then I’ll see her,” Draco pushed the sheets down with his leg, standing and pocketing his wand gingerly. “Where is she now?”

“We’ve admitted her to the Long-Term Closed Ward.” Thomas rattled off directions, “I can meet you there to discuss things, if you’d like.”

“No, I’ll return here after I see her,” Draco stated calmly, following the Healer out the door.

Who left that note on the table… Draco mused as he walked, careful not to shove his hands in his pockets as he normally would. Blood traitors will pay Body, Mind and Soul… Blood traitors… Pansy said it too. He furrowed his brow as he turned a corner. My family’s being targeted… how do I know they’re safe here?

A strange buzzing filled his head near the end of the next hallway. He paused in confusion. No corridors of St. Mungos possessed silencing charms unless there was cause for it… and this wasn’t a silencing charm. He knew he’d heard it before somewhere. Draco continued around the last bend cautiously.

Granger was crumpled to the floor on her knees, papers scattered about. She silently hiccuped through her tears, trembling hands reaching to gather the papers again. Only the buzzing was audible in the hall. An image of her sprawled on the floor of the Manor shot through his head at this sight. He frowned, retrieving his wand and giving it a few well chosen flicks. All the papers came together in a pile, back to their folder, floating upwards to a small table. Her body rose in the air with what he imagined was a startled squeak, and he placed her in a chair.

Wildly emotional brown eyes whirled to him so quickly, her bushy hair smacked her in the face. She quickly covered her face with both hands, shoulders rising and falling with her now silent sobs.

It’s none of your business. Draco reminded himself as he approached more cautiously now, eyes flickering between the door he needed to pass, and the distraught, trembling form of Granger. The buzzing left his ears when he got close. A gasping sob caught in her throat. He grit his teeth angrily at himself, sitting in the chair next to her. She tensed, quickly trying to wipe her eyes on the back of her hands. Another somewhat painful flick of his wand, and his personal calming draft appeared with a cup of tea. The scent of spiced warmth wafted towards him. He lazily mixed them together and then sent it to her hands, keeping his magic around the cup to not allow it to spill. Her entire body seemed to be trembling.

“I just had a calming draft,” Hermione muttered, hiccuping slightly as she lowered the cup in dismay. “It… it didn’t last very long.”

“You haven’t had mine,” Draco responded briskly. “It’s a damn sight stronger than anything they’ll give you here, I’ll tell you that.”

For a moment, he thought she was going to refuse the cup and tell him off for breaking hospital rules. However, she put the cup to her lips, closed her eyes and sipped at the tea. He glanced quickly at the folder nearby. The top of one paper had slid out from the folder as it had landed. Hermione Granger: Treatment Plan.

He frowned, then discreetly flicked his wand so the title vanished inside the folder. Granger was ill? Silver eyes looked back towards her as she sighed slightly at the combination. Her body immediately relaxed following the first sip. Draco felt safe releasing the last of his spell to keep the cup steady as her hands stopped shaking. “This is delicious, Draco. Why is it more effective?”

“Calming draughts are particularly effective when a few ingredients are nearly tripled,” his response was even and calm. “Side effects are countered when you dilute the potion with a some hot tea. The first sip calms the body.”

Hermione took another sip and her face relaxed further, “Second sip calms the mind.” She muttered in appreciation, inhaling the scent of the tea. There was still a good bit of tea left. “Then why the whole cup?”

“Calming potions tend to treat the immediate symptoms only,” Draco crossed his arms over his chest, somewhat surprised to be explaining potions to Hermione Granger of all people. “Utterly wasteful. The whole cup will prevent further outbursts for a full day, at least.”

“What are the side effects?” she asked suddenly.

Draco huffed irritably, somewhat insulted, looking away from her to glance up and down the hallway. The silenced area was unnerving him slightly. He knew now that strange buzzing had to have been her work. “I just told you, the tea counters them. As if anything I’d make and drink myself would have negative effects, Granger. It’ll make you calm. That’s it.”

“...Thank you, Draco.”

His silver eyes returned to her quickly. She wasn’t looking at him. Her eyes were closed, lips were pressed against the cup, she took a long swallow. Tears still clung to a few of her dark eyelashes. Her reddened cheeks seemed to be calming in color. Silver eyes couldn’t stop staring at her lips, as she pulled away slightly, her tongue lightly tracing the tea from the top lip, then sucking the bottom one into her mouth for a moment before taking another sip. Lowering the cup, she inhaled the scent of the tea again and exhaled slowly, lips parted.

A jolt of something he didn’t want to name hit him in the stomach. Slapping himself mentally, Draco stood. What in the name of…. Why am I looking at her like that? Get a grip, Malfoy. He needed to go. “Shouldn’t this hallway be a little louder than this?”

Her eyes shot open suddenly, “Oh, you’re right!” She put the cup down atop the folder, pulling her wand out. With a flick, he could feel the spell vanish. He frowned slightly, “What was that, anyway?”

Hermione said sheepishly, almost guiltily, “It… it’s a kind of silencing charm.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You look like I just caught you breaking school rules, Granger. Ten points from Gryffindor.”

A deep blush invaded her cheeks and she laughed. He smirked. It was certainly better than listening to her cry. The door of the long term ward opened suddenly. “Hermione? Malfoy? What are you two doing here?”

Draco rolled his eyes in irritation. Neville Longbottom stood, hand frozen on the doorknob.

“Hello Neville,” Hermione said cheerfully. She reached back to the teacup. Draco quickly looked away so he would not watch her finish the tea.

“Hold that door, would you? My mother’s in there, Longbottom.” Malfoy drawled calmly.

The color in Neville’s face vanished. That reaction surprised him. “That… that was your mother they brought in here, then? Oh… Malfoy… I’m…” the man shook his head sadly. “I’m so sorry…”

“What do you mean?” Draco hissed through clenched teeth, bristling. He pushed past Neville roughly, entering quickly, eyes darting around for Narcissa. She was in a bed in the far corner. He strode quickly across the room. The woman was sitting up in bed, staring straight ahead. “Mother,” he spoke quickly, reaching for her hand, holding it gently in his. “They said you wouldn’t be awake for hours.”

Her blue eyes turned to him, vacant. He gaped at her for a moment, squeezing her hand softly, his mind shutting down. His voice felt like it belonged to someone else. “Mother?” She tilted her head silently at him, then looked away, back to staring straight ahead, unfocused, unaware.

The world felt like it was closing in on him. Draco released her hand and painfully fumbled with the clipboard at her bedside, reading quickly, looking for the important words.

Narcissa Malfoy - Long Term In-Patient Closed Ward… Victim of Cruciatus curse… Possible long-term damage to Memory, Speech and Motor Control… Possible damage due to Dementor… Further testing required.

He dropped the clipboard, sitting back in his chair and staring at the face of his mother. His hearing felt like cotton were in his ears. Spots of black caught the edges of his vision. Was he breathing? Granger’s face suddenly swam in his darkening vision. Something warm pressed to his lips. He blinked in confusion as her hand touched the back of his head, tilting his head back. Warm, spicy liquid filled his mouth. He closed his eyes and swallowed a few times, letting her hand hold his head as she poured the rest of the cup down his throat.


	10. Hot and Cold

Chapter 10: Hot and Cold  
Hermione watched as Draco Malfoy lifted his head from her hand, pushing the teacup away. Neville cried out and several occupants of the ward jumped as it shattered on the floor. The silver haired man slumped forward with his elbows on his knees to catch his head in his hands. Hermione's hand fell and reflexively squeezed his shoulder before realizing what she was doing. She bit her lip worriedly as he took a few deep breaths, steadying himself. “What’s happened to her?” Malfoy croaked from his folded posture, “Why is she…”

“Didn’t the Healer explain before you came in here?” Neville asked with a frown, “They’re supposed to tell you-”

Three Healers burst in the room suddenly, rushing to the bed with Narcissa Malfoy. They looked alarmed to see her upright. Hermione stepped to the side to get out of the way, hand still on Draco’s shoulder. He jerked upright, hands moving to lay flat on his thighs, eyes glittering furiously. 

“Mr. Malfoy,” Healer Thomas spoke in a rush, warm eyes looking sincerely apologetic, “Your mother shouldn’t be conscious. I am terribly sorry for the shock this must have been.” He turned and scanned her with his wand, reading results quickly. His eyes widened in surprise, looking back to Draco. “She’s awake… because you’re close to her…”

Hermione watched Draco’s hands close to fists. “That must be a family blessing,” Thomas muttered under his breath, examining Narcissa’s eyes, “Very rare. She recognizes you.”

“She doesn’t,” Draco spoke coldly.

“But she does,” Thomas replied, turning to face him, “She wouldn’t be awake if she didn’t.”

“She doesn’t recognize me,” Draco spat, anger coloring his voice. Hermione felt the breath go out of her with his next sentence. “Her eyes looked right through me.”

Wendell and Monica Wilkins smiled at each other as they passed Hermione on the street. Her hands shook in her pockets when she realized she was little more than a ghost to them.

Hermione blinked. Malfoy was standing now, yelling at the Healers to explain what was going on as he gestured to his mother. “Mr. Malfoy, I’m going to have to ask you to calm down, and lower your voice in this room,” a different Healer admonished firmly. She was helping Narcissa to lay back down in bed. “None of these patients are to be disturbed.”

The silver haired man seemed to inflate before them. Draco was about to be very rude, she recognized that posture from behind. She quickly took his arm in both hands, pulling him back into his chair. He fell into it, startled and unprepared for the touch. Without pause, Hermione spoke, “Healers, Neville, give us a moment, please?”

Neville gave her a concerned look. Hermione saw Luna peek her head out from the curtain across the room, and Neville’s parents barely visible beyond them. However, her gentle request received immediate compliance. One of the Healers flicked the curtains closed around Narcissa’s bed where she lay, contently staring at the ceiling. 

Hermione silently cast Muffliato as Draco ripped his arm from her hands, taking several steps away from her. “What are you playing at, Granger?” He spat icily at her, “Hand feeding me my own calming draft?” He mimicked her voice, “Give us a moment?” His tense body looked like a snake ready to strike. Hermione watched him pace the length of the curtain.

“Those Healers have a job to do,” she snapped at him, irritated at his spot on mimicry, “They just want to help, and you were about to be an ass about it. This is the Long-term ward, and you don’t want to make things more difficult.”

“More difficult?” Draco snarled, both his hands dragging through his hair as he tried to contain himself. He closed his eyes. She saw him trying to remain cold, trying to retain the fury, the anger. His posture changed when the ice broke. He held the chair he had been sitting in with both hands. “She doesn’t recognize me,” he growled, “She doesn’t… She isn’t…” He half screamed, banging the chair on the ground and dragging his hands through his hair again, trying to regain control. He lost as he bellowed suddenly, “Granger, how in the bloody hell could this get MORE difficult?”

She crossed both arms over her chest, glaring at him steadily across Narcissa’s bed. “You could be acting like a brat in front of the Healers and make them less willing to communicate with you. You could get into a physical confrontation with one of them, and be banned from the premises all together.” Hermione replied firmly. “She’s alive, and she’s here. They are going to work hard to try to keep her comfortable, and assess the damage. Losing your head now isn’t going to help this situation get better.”

The words sounded somewhat hypocritical to herself, considering the meltdown that he’d just witnessed outside the Long-term Ward. “What do you know about it?” Draco hissed angrily, throwing himself into the chair. “Your parents are safe and sound in the Muggle world.”

Something snapped. The longing for her own mother and father ached painfully today. Sorrow and fear about the new diagnosis evaporated. An intoxicating fury overtook. His words had broken something inside of her. Hermione stalked over to his chair furiously, raising her hand and hitting him, hard across the face. His head turned with the blow, silver eyes widening in shock.

Hermione took both hands and gathered the front of his robes, pulling him to sit straight up in the chair. “You listen here, Draco Malfoy,” she hissed furiously, unable to stop the words. “You’re not the only one grieving your parents.” It felt like a dam of bottled fury within her chest had broken open. Her hands gave him a hard shake, “My own parents haven’t recognized me for the past two years, one day, and seventeen hours. Don’t you dare assume you understand a thing about me and mine!”

“Were they tortured, Granger?” Malfoy asked hollowly, recovering his sneering expression, refusing to back down. “Did someone put them under the Cruciatus curse and wrench their brain to nothing?”

“No,” Hermione yelled, fingernails digging into her palms, “It was me.” She felt a strange pounding in her ears. “I obliviated them myself!”

Draco’s coldness, his cruelness, evaporated. His face went strangely blank at her admission. He stood, looking down at her with that expressionless face. Her hands fell to her sides. The blood pounding throughout her body made her feel electrified. She wanted to hurt him, hit him again. Her hands balled into fists. One hit him in the shoulder. He was forced a step back, stumbling and knocking over the chair. She continued blindly hitting where she could, until his back hit the wall, then she stepped forward and pounded her fists against his chest. Control felt far away as a furious wail tore from her lips, uncontrollable and undeniable. Draco’s arms wrapped around her and held her tightly, pinning her against his chest. She trembled, barely containing tears, barely containing her desire to throttle Malfoy further.

“I think you’ve found a side-effect I didn’t realize,” Draco mused aloud, his chest rumbled against her arms, “Rage… I’ll have to change the calming draft, after all.”

“Rage?” she seethed, glaring up at him. She couldn’t see his face now. He seemed to be standing with his eyes closed, almost in a meditation. “A side-effect? How didn’t you notice it until now?”

“Because, unlike you, I’m always angry,” Draco responded simply, “...I didn’t realize it was anything more than usual until now. Try to take a few deep breaths, and it’ll start to fade.”

“Let me go,” Hermione hissed, struggling against him, feeling Luna’s strange charm necklace digging into the skin of her forearms under his shirt, “I said, let me go!”

“Not a chance,” Draco replied coolly, solidifying his grip as she struggled uselessly. “You’ll try to hex me next, and I’m not planning on an overnight stay.”

Her ears were still pounding strangely. She hissed through her teeth, “How did you know I’d hex you?”

“It’s what I wanted to do before you stopped me,” Draco responded simply, unmoving. “Give it a few more minutes, Granger. You’re going to be tripping over yourself to apologize for this mess.” He hesitated for a moment before continuing. “For what it’s worth… you made the right choice. I regret what you had to do to save them.”

The rage melted. Hermione felt the tears slide down her face. She bowed her head. Why did she have to keep crying in front of him? Why did he have to keep seeing her fall apart? Why did she say all that to him, of all the witches and wizards in the world? Her hands rested flat against his chest, and she pressed her eyes to the back of her hands. She didn’t want to break here, not like this, not with him.

“There you go. See?” Draco muttered, hands falling to his sides to release her. 

Hermione didn’t let go, nor did she step away. She should’ve. That would have been appropriate. She couldn’t. Her hands fisted in his shirt as she took a deep, shuddering breath, trying to calm herself.

“Weren’t you the one that just said losing your head now isn’t going to help this situation get better?” Draco asked, attempting a jeering tone. She felt her eyes growing hot and tried, yet failed, to take a steadying breath. It sounded more like a sob than a gasp. Any moment now, she expected him to push her away, tell her to go, that he didn’t want a filthy little mudblood like her staining his skin with her tears.

That never came. Instead, his body seemed to soften. One arm hesitatingly wrapped around her waist, resting on the small of her back. A hand gently pressed against the top of her head and stroked her hair.

“I don’t like it when you cry,” Draco spoke quietly.

She laughed shakily against his chest. “You didn’t seem to mind much when you cursed my teeth, Malfoy.”

“I was aiming for one of your side-kicks, if you remember rightly,” He chuckled at the memory. She felt him spring a few curls in her hair. “You have to admit, looking back, it was fairly amusing.” He smirked. She didn’t need to see his face to know, “I’m rather proud of that one, Granger. And you had my little spell to thank for the fact that you finally fixed those oversized biters.”

“You’re such an arrogant git,” she half laughed, half sobed.

They fell silent for a few long moments. Hermione continued to try to steady her breathing. Malfoy’s hand in her hair felt good. Her shoulders relaxed. His hand was warm and relaxed against the small of her back. She slowly unclenched her hands, palms flat to his chest again. His heartbeat pressed against her fingertips.

She exhaled slowly, “Are you ready to see the Healer?”

“No,” he responded calmly, heartbeat not changing as he sprung one last curl. He sighed heavily, releasing her hair, withdrawing his hand from her back, and taking both hands to hers against his chest. “But I’ll have to see them anyway.”

“...Do you want to be alone?”

Draco gave her a strange, masked look, squeezing her hands slightly. “You might as well stay.” He smirked, “Maybe you’ll keep me from doing something stupid.”


	11. The Secret Room

Chapter 11: The Secret Room  
Draco stood in his potion’s laboratory, double checking his figures. He cursed softly under his breath, rubbing his temple with one hand as he bent over his notebook. This would be the thirty first attempt to fix the calming draft. Trials one through thirty had not shown much improvement with the sense of rage. It was difficult for him to judge it accurately, considering the low simmering anger he seemed unable to release these days.

Pushing the thoughts away, he began to triple check the weight, quantity and potency for the next trial. Calculations always took him forever, and he often made foolish mistakes. Brewing potions was as easy as breathing. He wanted to get this right. The calming draft was going to be necessary over the next few months, he knew it. Recalibrating the concoction made him feel like he could regain some sense of control in his life.

It was a false thought, but he appreciated being able to do something rather than sit around and wait.

Someone had tortured his mother badly, the damage had so been deep, that it had harmed her magical core. Her zombie-like air would remain unless they could figure out how the Cruciatus curse had dug so deep. Normally, that result occurred in long, drawn out torture over many days, weeks or months. Mere hours had passed, yet the damage was severe. It was unnerving. They needed to run many more tests. For the past month, he had visited every single day to sit by her bed and follow up with the Healers. In a few more hours, he would return to St. Mungos to discuss things with the Healers once more. Further testing continued to confuse the Healers, bringing only more questions instead of answers.

Draco gave the numbers one final glance before deciding to eliminate one ingredient for this trial. He began to add the ingredients slowly as his mind wandered to Lucius. 

His father had been put under the Imperius curse, and forced to slit his own throat. His wand had not been found on him, and Draco had been unable to locate it back at the Manor. A medically induced coma halted his condition, and they were working tirelessly to refill his body with blood replenishing potions, trying to heal the wound. It appeared a cursed blade had done it, for the scar stubbornly refused to close. His condition was critical and they were on a touch and go basis.

Draco gave the potion a final stir, then summoned a portion of it to a vial. He corked it, and walked upstairs to the gardens. It was always safer to try these things outside on the lawn. If it went awry, there was a chance someone would find him eventually.

Granger had stayed with him the entire time the Healer’s explained their conditions that first day, a month ago now. After they’d left, he sat there, trying to take it all in when he had felt her hands on his shoulders. He realized that a rage had been bubbling under the surface and relaxed immediately at her touch. She’d squeezed his shoulders gently and Draco’s eyes had fluttered closed for a moment.

He summoned a stronger tea, mixing it with his potion. His calculations said he'd need a stronger tea to counter side effects. Without hesitation, he downed it, the strong spices tingling his taste buds. A notepad began to float next to him. It was an observation page to record everything he did and said for the next hour while the experiment was in progress.

At first, everything seemed fine. Hands in his pockets, he took a stroll through the garden. For thirty minutes, there were no abnormal results. About to congratulate himself, he smiled and turned back to the house. Something was off. Draco coughed, then a strange laugh broke from his lips. “Too much Alihotsy,” he gasped between a few of these. The floating quill scribbled furiously. “Damn… the Eagle Owl Feather would’ve countered that. Ugh… I hate delayed reactions.”

Draco stumbled inside the house, vision strange. He could see shadows of figures moving through the library- memories of his mother and father taking tea to the balcony, himself as a young child exploring the library, shadows of owls swooping in and out of the room, and the Death Eaters walking through the space.

“Pulling memories instead of releasing them,” Draco hissed, tensing as one of them walked right through him. “Timelines jumbled. This is abnormal. No ingredients should've caused this.” He saw shadows of past house elves darting around the room. The squat figure of a Death Eater seemed to be shouting something. Suddenly, all of their shadows bolted towards the main hall. He followed them, still chuckling darkly, uncontrollably. 

His feet took him to the one chamber he couldn’t face. Why was he doing this? The doors pushed open in his memory. He flicked his wand and they burst open.

The scene before him was utter confusion. Shadows began to have clear shape, form and color. It appeared that his mother and father were waltzing around the room. Gentle melody from a soft accordion caught his ears. Eyes were soft and tender as they gazed at each other. This was strange, he’d never seen them dance like that. The two of them wore wedding robes. His eyes widened as he realized what he was watching.

Many voices came in and out, and he saw the room flickering around him oddly. House elves again, servants preparing the room for guests. Shadows of people at a ball- a New Years party. The last party this manor had known, before Voldemort came to power. Echoes of jumbled voices caught his ears. Some were dancing, some were laughing, some were talking in whispers and giggles. There were other instruments playing now, melody jarring with the music already floating in through the air.

There, by the fireplace, he saw Pettigrew. Fenrir Greyback was stalking a circle of prisoners. Draco couldn’t hear those voices. He could see his father and mother speaking- see himself standing at the fireplace. He saw Bellatrix walk in the room.

Dancers from the New Years party lined up across the room for a beloved partner dance. Another strange laugh escaped his lips. The music all grew louder. Granger was ripped from the circle of prisoners. Potter and Weasley were screaming, passing him on the dance floor. He could hear them now, pleading for Bellatrix to take one of them instead, screaming her name. Draco felt his vision spin. He couldn’t hear this again. “No,” he muttered aloud, unable to move, unable to tear his eyes away. “...No. Not this.”

He covered his eyes with his hands, “I don’t want to see this.”

“CRUCIO!”

Draco’s head snapped up as Hermione’s scream lit up the room. Dancers twirled. Delighted laughter lit up all around him, strings playing a happy tune, and a beautifully romantic accordion all while Bellatrix stood there, torturing Hermione Granger. Her wand flung the girl to the center of the dance floor, nearly in front of his own feet. His heart was about to leap out of his chest. He felt sick. “...L-layers of spatial memories-”

More cries of “CRUCIO” rang out, more unbearable screaming. Her face. Draco hadn’t been this close to her face. Pain like he had never known carved every line of her screaming face. That was burned into his brain, now, and he would never unsee it.

“Time and space fragmentation,” Draco gasped, sinking to his knees. This needed to stop. What had happened? How had this gone so wrong? He couldn’t breathe. His ears began to ache with a familiar pounding, “Rage stronger,” he seethed. Wand in the air, Draco stepped over Hermione’s writhing figure and began to demolish the memory of Bellatrix, trying to end this. He slashed at her futilely, stone and furniture imploding at his touch.

He was laughing, strange and unnatural- it matched Bellatrix’s.

“NO!” Draco’s wand emitted powerful green and silver sparks, and the marble floor suddenly rippled from under his feet to the very corners of the room, cracking and splitting. The hallucinations disappeared. He swayed for a moment as the near silence hit him, then collapsed, gasping for air.

“Why… won’t it stop…” Draco moaned, clutching his head. The screams were still echoing painfully inside his skull. A whisper of a memory hit him. The sensation of her warm hands squeezing his shoulders. The screams ceased immediately. 

His eyes locked to the banner above the mantel. The Malfoy family tree, proudly on display above the fireplace. Bellatrix’s name shimmered in bright gold lettering. Rage swept through him as he’d never remembered. Breathing heavily, he suddenly bellowed at the tree, his wand fixing to Bellatrix and burning a hole through her name before he realized what he was doing. “Experiment failure,” he growled to the observation pad, it scribbled the final results before sliding back into hid pocket. “Side effects increased beyond normal.”

Lowering his wand hand slowly, his head turned to survey the damage he had caused. This room would have to be gutted and restored. His mother would be furious with that, he was certain. Glaring back at Bellatrix’s burn mark, he saw something was glittering behind the banner. Draco narrowed his eyes in confusion. He swished his wand, floating the banner up the wall. A door. His heart leapt in his chest. A door? Approaching the fireplace cautiously, he constructed a crude staircase out of broken stones. 

There was no handle on the door, and no knob, no knocker. Frowning slightly, he pressed his hands to the door. For a moment, a red hot sensation tingled from fingertip to toe. Then, it slid to the side. There was a spiral staircase leading down behind the fireplace. Draco stepped on to it, and it began to descend, door sliding shut behind him. 

“Lumos.”

His spell seemed to do something to this chamber, for suddenly the walls were alight all around him. Blinking in the soft blue light, he tried to get a sense for how far down he was moving.

It seemed an age later that it stopped, and he stepped out into a small, circular chamber. Everything appeared to pulse in the soft blue light. The Malfoy family crest was glittering in silver through a layer of dark black marble on the floor. A large book sat on a stone pedestal in the center of the room. 

Footsteps echoed strangely in the chamber as he approached the book. Lights grew steadier with every step.

Draco's fingertips touched the edge of the stand, and his silver eyes glanced down at the book. The air went out of his lungs in a low hiss.

Names of the Head of the Malfoy family went down the left hand side of the page. He quickly flipped through the book to see generations all the way back to the first Malfoy. Next to every name were three words.

Wealth. Health. Power.

He narrowed his eyes slightly. Each line, one of the three words was bold and glowing the same blue of the room. Most of the lines had Wealth or Power. 

“I have to choose…” Draco muttered, flipping back to the current page. 

Draco Lucius Malfoy - Wealth. Health. Power.

Draco's name began to ink itself under his father's name. It shimmered softly as it began to dry in the soft light of the room. The blue light began to pulse again and fade. A sudden jolt in his stomach warned him that a decision needed to be made before the ink dried. 

He didn't understand. Wealth had given his father more money than the family needed, as they had already been set for several generations. Would more gold fix his parents? There were no better Healers than those of St. Mungo's.

The light began to dim and pulse slower. Ink was drying at the start of his name. He saw his grandfather had chosen Power. The Malfoy family name had enough power. No amount of power would change what had already happened.

What did health mean? Did that mean he would have health, or his family would? Did it mean they would awake, fully restored? Could he hope for that? Would it be that easy? It couldn't be. The light was about to stop. 

“Health,” he spoke to the dark room. 

Light exploded around him, blinding him. His decision appeared in the book in front of him, and an arched silver doorway suddenly appeared in front of the pedestal.


	12. Happy Birthday

Chapter 12: “HAPPY BIRTHDAY!”

Hermione couldn't stop herself from smiling as George took Harry's head under his arm and began to ruffle his dark hair. The Burrow was full to bursting with Weasley's and friends. Charlie, Bill and Fleur had all returned home to celebrate with everyone. Ginny had the rest of the summer off, and was looking forward to relaxing in August. 

Hermione wasn't. She had managed to make it to St. Mungo's every day without any questioning so far. Ginny had already made it perfectly clear that she planned on catching up on lost time. Hermione had been able to shake her for at least the next few days, but Ginny was sharp. She'd start to figure it out soon.

Hermione bit her lip slightly, lost in thought. Tomorrow, the Healers would perform a through brain scan again to see if the treatment had yielded any results. Her symptoms had improved, but she was unsure if that meant anything had changed.

She shook her head to clear the thoughts. That was tomorrow. Today, she wanted to celebrate her best friend's birthday.

A glass of butter beer floated to her hand. She caught it and raised it with the rest as Mr. Weasley made a toast to Harry's long life and future happiness. She cheered with the rest of them and drank deeply. The sweet warmth hit her from her lips to her toes.

Ginny threw an arm around her shoulder, pulling her into a tight hug. “First time we've all been together again since the battle of Hogwarts,” those brown eyes were glowing fiercely. “It is good to see everyone smiling again.”

Hermione threw her arm around Ginny's waist, hugging the girl tightly to her side. Unspoken was the longing for Fred to be among the smiling faces.

“Alright now everyone, out to the garden!” Mrs. Weasley clapped her hands, then shooed them towards the door, “Charlie, Bill, Percy, could you please help me get things out from the kitchen? No, Fleur, I insist you go out and try to get comfortable!”

Fleur put a hand to her swollen stomach, smiling and not arguing as Mr. Weasley helped her to her feet. She would have her twins in a couple of months. George would be their Godfather. Bill had joked that he was the only one who could understand the way twins could get into mischief. The whole family took it as a sign that Fred was watching over them.

George and Ron took Harry out to the garden, blindfolded. Their laughter bounced around through the warm summer air. Ginny grinned as she walked Hermione to the door as well. Hagrid, Minerva McGonagall, Neville Longbottom, Luna Lovegood, her father Xenophilius, Amos Diggory and his wife, Andromeda Tonks, and Teddy Lupin had joined them for the dinner and celebration. 

When they sat at the table, Ron ripped the blindfold from Harry's head. Cheers of surprise lit up the air. The number of guests had been kept a secret from him. Hermione saw Harry's green gaze take in all the people around him and her face hurt from smiling. It had been a long time since so much laughter had filled the Burrow.

She missed her family, but she was so grateful not to be alone.

Mrs. Weasley had outdone herself with the meal. Platters and plates were piled high with delicious smelling food. Hermione sat with Ginny near Minerva- who had insisted they start using her first name after graduation. The two of them were chatting, catching up about how things were going at Hogwarts and the Burrow. Ginny pulled Minerva into a conversation about Quidditch, and her summer training program.

Hermione took another chance to look around. Hagrid and Harry were laughing hysterically. Ron had choked on his drink, and Bill was thumping him in the back. George, Luna and Fleur were talking about the future twins. Charlie, Xenophilius and Mr. Weasley were chuckling at Teddy Lupin, who was attempting to ride Fang. Percy was standing by Mrs. Weasley, who was fussing about, making sure everyone had third and fourth helpings. Andromeda was deep in conversation with the Diggory's, who were smiling. All the commotion filled her heart, when a sad thought suddenly struck her.

Draco was alone. Alone, and likely miserable with grief and worry for his parents. She took another long sip of butter beer. The warmth didn't seem to touch the sadness she felt for Draco.

“You seem to have something on your mind,” a crisp voice broke her sudden thought. “What is it?”

Hermione jumped. Professor McGonagall was staring at her, cool and collected, and right, as always.

Ron had perfect timing, thankfully. He stumbled over next to them, still coughing slightly. Harry had an hand under Ron's arm to steady him.

“Hermione, I want a new picture of the three of us for my album.” Harry said with a grin, as he took her arm too. “C'mon!”

They walked towards a large tree, lanterns floating in the air all around them. Ron flicked his wand and a camera came zooming out of the house. The boys stood next to her, arms over her shoulders. She held them both as she had held Ginny earlier. Their arms on either side of her made her feel so much younger, safe, and strong. A smile spread out over her face.

A cloud of purple smoke floated in the air as it took their picture.

She clung to the memory as she walked into St. Mungo's the next morning. The wands moved all around her head, and she waited for thirty minutes this time before Healer Amy returned. 

One look at the Healer's face told her the truth. She closed her eyes, feeling her stomach sink. Healer Amy sat down, putting both her hands over Hermione's. “I'm sorry, Miss Granger.” 

Taking several calming breaths helped. Amy summoned three images side by side.

Hermione opened her eyes, trying to focus on the words, drawing her hands away as she moved the images to overlap in front of her.

“...one year, last month, and this month…”

“It's gotten worse,” Hermione whispered as her eyes raked over the images.

“It appears to be increasing at an accelerated rate now that we are attempting to treat your condition.”

“...Now what?”

“I am giving you a file to review with three experimental treatment options,” Amy said calmly. “Once you decide on a course of action, we will proceed. I can talk you through this if you'd like.”

“No…” Hermione pushed her hair out of her face, shaking her head no. “I…” She exhaled slowly, “...I need some time to go through this alone.” Amy left, and she slowly opened the folder to read through everything.

An hour later, Hermione stood outside of the ward, holding the folder tightly to her chest, back to the wall, staring at the floor. She felt strangely numb.

“Granger?” Hermione looked up slowly, still dazed. Draco Malfoy stood there, a couple of books in a bag across his chest. His cool eyes glanced to the folder in her arms, and then snapped back to hers. She felt him read her face and didn't have the energy to hide her sadness. Neville opened the door, pausing when he saw Hermione standing there. The two men exchanged glances.

Draco offered his arm to her. She took it wordlessly, and he led her to the tea room around the corner. Neville opened the door. A moment later, one of them had placed a cup down in front of her. A wand added a stir of honey and a splash of milk, pushing the cup to her fingertips.

Slowly, she sipped at it, staring at the folder on the table. 

“Bad news?” Draco asked quietly. She looked up. He held his cup in both hands, eyes locked to her face.

She nodded wordlessly, tearing her eyes away from his. Draco and Neville both had seen her in and out of St. Mungo's. Neither had been rude enough to ask her what was going on, but they knew what it meant for someone to be in and out of the hospital on a regular basis.

Neville sighed softly. She heard him shift in his chair. “...do you want to talk about it?”

Hermione shook her head no.

The three sat there in the uncomfortable silence. She laughed suddenly at the absurdity of this situation, unable to suppress it, looking up at her fellow Gryffindor. “I never imagined the three of us having tea.”

Neville smiled, accentuating the cursed scarring on the side of his face. He nodded at Malfoy. “Well… we've had some time to chat over the past month.”

Draco sipped at his tea. “Longbottom's parents come sit with my mother when I read to her. It is unclear if they recognize the words, but they sit to listen every day. It appears our mothers are bonding somehow.”

“That's unusual,” Hermione said in surprise, her curiosity helping to take her mind off her sadness. “Any idea why?”

“The Healer's are stumped.” Neville replied, “They've never seen anything like this behavior.”

“I would love to see the that,” Hermione honestly appreciated the opportunity for a distraction. “Have you already read to them today?”

Draco shook his head no to say he hadn't. “You've likely read the book already, Granger. It will just bore you.”

Her warm brown eyes met his cool silver ones. She wasn't ready to go back to the Burrow, or to re-read the contents of the experimental treatments. “...please?”

That was how she found herself, sitting in a chair across from Narcissa Malfoy, Alice and Frank Longbottom, listening to the calm, steady voice of Draco Malfoy. Neville hadn't been able to stay for the reading today. Sure enough, the three sat on the couch, staring straight ahead at nothing, appearing to listen. The book was one she had nearly memorized, a history book written almost like an adventure novel. The choice was slightly surprising to her.

Hermione appreciated the sound of Draco's voice rising and falling with the words of the book. It drowned out her own internal voice. She turned towards him slightly to get a good look at him.

Dark circles were under his eyes, skin paler than normal. He looked like he hadn't slept properly in a long time. His hair was still long, and the ponytail appeared to be slowly slipping out of his white blonde hair. A strand of hair slipped in front of his face, and he absentmindedly brushed it away before turning the page to continue reading.

Another pang of sadness hit her at the thought of him alone, carrying the weight of his parent's illnesses.

At the end of the chapter, Draco closed the book. A small notepad she hadn't noticed began to scribble next to his elbow. She frowned. It looked like a quick quill, reminding her of Rita Skeeter.

“Observation day thirty two,” Draco said quietly. The quill darted over to each adult and began to scribble. As each began to move, it followed them.

“That’s brilliant,” Hermione muttered softly, watching the quill follow Narcissa as she stood, wandering across the room. “Have you collected enough data to form a theory?”

“Not yet. The Healer's think I'm wasting time.” Draco replied quietly. “Granger… I want to ask your help with something.”

She turned to see Draco had pulled a notebook from his bag. He held it in both hands on his lap. “I've been trying to adjust the calming draft… but so far, nothing has changed for the better. My last attempt…” his fingers tightened slightly on the notepad, “...went poorly. Would you take a look at my calculations?”

Hermione nodded, taking the notebook from him. She flipped it open, startled as papers flew up in the air around her.

“Observation pages,” Draco said calmly, “You can see the results of the experiments.”

Her eyes widened as she skimmed the page, her mouth dropped open in a gasp and she put a hand to her mouth as she realized what this meant. “...I thought you said you'd never drink something with side effects.”

“I lied,” he responded smoothly. A Healer opened the door and beckoned towards him. Draco stood, disappearing as she read the details from his last trial. Many parts were blacked out. It wasn't very helpful. What she could read didn't make sense.

Hermione carefully read through his calculations. Nothing looked wrong. Perhaps a few reckless choices in the ingredients, but nothing that would cause the reactions she saw. She frowned, swirling the last of her tea and downing it in a gulp. She froze.

The tea! What tea had he been using? What ingredients were in the tea? Was it possible that combined with magical ingredients, their dormant magical properties created the reaction? That could explain everything! Maybe there was nothing wrong with his original blend, but a different tea would yield the proper result! She quickly summoned a quill, scratching beneath his calculations.


	13. Hard Truth

Chapter 13: Hard Truth

Draco felt somewhat anxious, asking for help with the calming draft. He had decided yesterday that he couldn't keep experimenting this way. That last trial had been the most unpleasant so far. His calculations must have been off, and he knew no one better than the brown haired girl. Speaking to the Healer outside the room as her intelligent eyes scanned his notebook was somewhat of a relief. 

The Healer didn't bring good news. They had decided to try to delve into Lucius’ memories to determine the source of the cursed blade, hoping that the knowledge would assist with his healing. It was a long shot, but they needed his signature to follow through.

Draco read the paper carefully before signing, making sure that this would not cause further harm to his Father. After ten minutes, he was convinced it was a harmless procedure. He signed the form and returned to the ward.

Silver eyes shot open when he saw a second set of notes floating in the air- a second book sitting in Granger's hand, eyes devouring the text.

Anger bubbled in him. He flicked his wand and everything slammed shut in her face. She jumped, startled. “No!” Her fingers clung to the book, and she was pulled up out of where chair, yanked by the book across the carpet with the summoning charm. The book pressed against his chest, and she pressed herself to the book, against him, refusing to let go.

“What do you think you're doing, going through my things?” Draco hissed angrily, trying to pull the book from her fingers. 

“Where did you find this?” She whispered, having shame enough to blush at her indecent behavior, although not releasing the book. Her intelligent eyes were sparkling.

“I invited you to examine my calming draft calculations,” he growled coldly, “How did you manage to interpret that as permission to search my bag?”

She bit her lip, fingers tightening on the book as he tried to pull it away again. “Please… Draco… I'm sorry…”

Damn it, he hated how that word from her lips pleaded, and succeeded. When had that started? He hated how he calmed when she said his name. Her apology melted his fury like snow. 

“You'd better talk fast,” he snapped, anger dwindling, but refusing to show it, finally pulling the book up and away, holding it far to his side, above her head, out of reach. Her hands pressed into his shoulders and she stood on tiptoe, reaching for it with one hand. She could barely reach his forearm.

“Come on,” she huffed, standing on one foot unsteadily to try to be taller, reaching a bit more clumsily. Her balance failed and she stumbled, grabbing his arm for support. Draco's free arm wrapped around her as he staggered backwards, hitting his head on the wall behind him with an irritating amount of force. He cursed under his breath, surprised when soft hands quickly reached up through his hair. His entire body went rigid.

Hermione Granger’s sparkling brown eyes were looking at him in concern as her fingertips pressed against his skull. “Are you alright?”

The woman seemed oblivious to the fact that she was pressed against his chest. He could feel the softness of her body- her own heat through her clothes. One of her hands brushed loose strands of hair from his face, fingertips digging lightly against his skull as she drew her nails through his hair to meet the other pressed against the back of his skull. “Draco, that book could be the answer!” Her sparkling eyes seemed to catch fire, and she began to speak very quickly. “I’ve never seen a book like this. Complicated magic, for certain, appearing to blend arithmancy, ancient runes, potions, charms- well, from what I read so far, I mean, I only managed to make it through the first four chapters, before-”

“Bloody hell, Granger,” he swore, uncomfortably hot now, “Why do you think I’m reading it?”

She laughed suddenly and embraced him, squeezing him tightly, her soft curls pressing against his face, oblivious to the fact that his entire body was uncomfortable with the contact. “Draco, how did you find a book like this? Where did you go? I want to see the library. If this book exists, there must be so much more-”

“Slow down-” Draco began.

Her arms released him, her hands pressed against his shoulders, eyes alight. “I mean, it makes sense, but how extraordinary! No one could come up with theories like this in one lifetime! There are four pens in the book. The author’s biography in the beginning of the book was in four different languages. French, German, English, Ancient Runes- I’d need my dictionaries to assist with understanding some of the pieces. I’ve never seen anything written this way.”

“Granger,” Draco tried again. Her hands cupped both his cheeks, pulling his face down to meet her eyes. Gryffindor indeed… The passion that erupted from her, merely from a few chapters and scribbled notes, stunned him. Why did she care? Suddenly, he couldn’t think or breathe, forced to stare straight at her while words continued to tumble from her lips. His brain felt fuzzy. Her lips moved, but he didn't hear her. He remembered those lips drinking a potion he’d summoned a month ago.

“Your notes make it seem like you’ve read this a few times already.” She reached for the book again with one hand on tiptoe, other hand sliding behind his shoulder to press on the wall for balance. “Please, can I have the book back? The formula makes sense, but I need to translate the chapter on ancient runes to know whether or not-”

“Hermione,” he whispered, heart pounding strangely in his throat, arm and book falling to his side.

She froze. Her eyes locked to his again and her breathing caught suddenly with a sharp inhale. That second seemed to stand still.

“Oh…” she whispered, suddenly flushing a deep red. She bit her lip and swallowed hard, looking down at the floor and stepping away from him. His arm at her waist slid along her soft shirt, falling to his side. “I… I’m sorry… I just got… carried away…”

He wanted her.

The thought struck him so clearly, and it terrified him so much, that Draco could do nothing but clench his fist, trying to shut down the sudden desire. He closed his eyes, but that didn’t help, because he could still feel her hands in his hair. He exhaled forcefully, eyes snapping open. “Honestly, Granger, getting so worked up over a book that you-”

She’d already turned away from him, seeming to shrink in on herself, walking back to get her bag. A sudden brick of guilt landed in his stomach.

Damn her!

Why did he have to feel like he’d done something wrong, when she was the one that had gone snooping in his things? She sat in the chair, quickly pulling on her jacket, and swinging her bag over her shoulder. Anger welled in him. He stalked after her, throwing his book at his bag, putting a hand on either side of the chair to block her exit. 

Shame and embarrassment and something he didn’t recognize were plain on her face when she looked at him with surprise. Her head quickly turned away, long brown hair blocking her face from his sight. “Don’t go through my things without asking,” Draco said coldly, still trying to quell the desire. He’d been stupid to come this close to her again.

She nodded meekly, trying to push his other notebook back in his hands. “You are going to answer my question, Granger. Why do you care? It’s not your mother that this could help.”

Hermione still refused to look up at him, “The calming draft is fine. It’s the tea that caused the reactions. Your original potion would work with no side effects if you used chamomile tea. Combining simple spices with magical ingredients-”

Irritation flared through him. “Don’t change the subject.” He took her chin in one hand, pressing his thumb a bit harder than he should have, and forced her eyes up to him. “Why do you care? Does this have something to do with why you’ve been here, every single day this month? What’s wrong with you?”

“...I can’t-” Hermione closed her eyes as if she were in pain. He released her chin, growling softly in irritation as she bowed her head. She pushed him away as her entire body began to tremble, trying to stand.

“There is no way in hell I’d let you borrow that book until you told me why you care so much,” Draco snapped in frustration. He held her arm as she stood, refusing to let her walk away. “I need it to draw up calculations and ingredient lists. Why would I give it to you for no good reason and waste my time? You said so yourself, the translation-”

Her brown eyes locked to his suddenly, watery and fierce and scared. “I’m damaged,” Hermione whispered. “...I’m going to end up just like your mother, and Neville’s parents… unless...” He saw two tears slide down her face as she closed her eyes. “Unless they can find a way to stop it.”

Her hand went to her mouth suddenly, he could see her entire body trembling. “I...I haven’t t-told… anyone…” her muffled voice shook. Her breathing came short and fast. She was having a panic attack. Her other hand covered her mouth as well. She backed away, stumbling into the chair behind her.

Draco didn’t think. He wrapped his arms around her tightly. She held him, breathing strangely, trying to calm herself, nails biting slightly into his back.

“I hope you’re right about that tea, Granger,” He pulled his wand out, flicking it to summon the last of his original draft and the chamomile tea, fixing a cup behind her back, “Because if you try to hit me again today, I’m going to put you in a full body bind.”

He pulled away and kept the hovering charm around the cup as he led her to the couch by his mother’s bed, helping her to sit and hold the tea. Granger’s trembling stopped after the first sip. Her breathing returned to normal after the second. She held the cup in her hands, staring down at her fingers, still refusing to look at him.

“...I’ll let you borrow that book if you let me see what’s in that folder.” Draco said quietly. It wasn’t fair. He had no business poking his nose in her medical files, and he knew it. 

“Why do you care?” she took another sip.

“I don't,” he lied, spinning something on the spot. “This will even the scores. You've gone through my parents medical file, and my bag, both times without permission. I never took you for such a snoop.”

Her hands held the mug tightly. “...you can't tell anyone.”

He nodded. One of her hands held his arm firmly and he met her eyes again. “I mean it, Draco… everything is finally starting to get back to normal for so many people around me. I don't want this to bother any of them.”

He frowned deeply at that. She felt like a bother? To her friends? Where had that come from? “Granger, you really must have a screw loose in there.” He poked her forehead. “Do you really think Potter or any Weasley or even that oaf Hagrid would want you to bottle this up?” His hand softened and reached down to her cheek before he realized what he was doing. He quickly withdrew his hand, as if burned. “Being alone doesn't make it better. You need to tell them.”

“I'm not ready.” She said firmly, shaking her head no.

“You won't be.” He replied with a shrug, sitting back on the couch so he would stop touching her. She surprised him by resting her head against his shoulder. His fingers began to pull on her curls without his permission. “I won't tell anyone, Granger… but you should.” He sighed slightly as he realized he liked the feeling of her curls between his fingers. “They'll just be upset later to know that you tried to keep it all to yourself, for the sake of their happiness.”

“Since when have you been so wise?” She muttered sleepily. Draco sighed, taking the cup from her hand. Her head slid to his chest and he wrapped an arm around her.

“Miscalculated again,” he said quietly, continuing to pull softly at her curls as she fell asleep. “Side effect is drowsiness.”

Draco must've dozed off too. The next thing he knew, a sharp poke in his shoulder made his eyes snap open.

A long haired, fiery red headed woman stood there glowering down at him, hands on her hips. He blinked the sleep from his gaze. The folder was open behind her and she had a paper in her hand. She opened her mouth to speak. Draco quickly put a finger to his lips, glancing down at the woman asleep against his chest. “Put it back. Quickly, before she wakes.” He spoke very lowly and quietly. “If she sees you with that-”

The woman quickly returned the paper to the folder, closing it and making it look as though it hadn't been touched. She was intelligent.

“It's three in the morning,” Ginny hissed through clenched teeth. “No note, nothing! I told the whole family she was taking a night to camp on her own so they wouldn't worry. And now this?” She pointed to the folder, “And this?” Her hand waved to the two of them. “Why is she asleep on you?”

The time startled him. He must've been more tired than he realized. “Can't be helped.”

Hermione shivered slightly. Her hand reached out and pulled his arm back around her, snuggling closer to him. Draco felt a slight flush in his face.

Ginny's eyes widened as she analyzed his face quickly. Damn her brain. He tried to force the blush away.

Hermione stirred, and her eyes opened slowly.


	14. Friends

Chapter 14: Friends  
Hermione blinked sleepily, seeing Ginny over her, she thought she was asleep in her own bed at the Burrow.

“Hmm?” She muttered, pulling her pillow closer to her body, then noticed her pillow had a pulse. A rapid heartbeat caught her ear. That didn’t make sense. She poked at it with her fingertips. It flinched. She sat straight up, confused. It took a few moments for her to fully register what was going on. Draco Malfoy? Why was he in the Burrow? She looked around, recognizing the sight of the closed long term ward. Then, she remembered.

“Chamomile is too strong,” she muttered, rubbing her eye, then yawning and covering her mouth. “Did you double the strength of the tea?”

“...yes?” he admitted, with a tone that asked if that had been the wrong choice.

“Ordinary strength is all you need. The doubled dose,” she yawned again, stretching her arms out to the sides, “...is more like a sleeping draft.”

“Hermione Jean Granger.”

Hermione jumped at the tone of that voice. She quickly turned to face Ginny. Her friend was giving off a strong Mrs. Weasley energy, and she almost expected her to start yelling any second. “There’s no yelling in a closed ward, Ginny. You’ll upset the patients.”

That paused the red head, as her eyes flickered around the room. “You wait ‘til we get home,” Ginny growled, crossing her arms over her chest, “C’mon, let’s go! You’d better explain why in the name of Voldemort’s left nipple I had to trace you, track you and find you,” she frowned deeply, glaring at Draco disapprovingly, “Curled up all nice and comfy with Malfoy of all people.”

A flicker of anger struck her. “I don’t see why it matters to you who I’m with, Ginny.” Hermione snapped before thinking, fingers tightening on the edge of the sofa under her. Ginny raised an eyebrow and tilted her head at that. Hermione felt a sudden flush of color through her neck and cheeks. “That’s- that’s not what I meant to say,” Hermione muttered. She cleared her throat, turning her head to Draco. “Tell her, that I just fell asleep after-” Hermione met silver eyes that were glittering in amusement. Her voice died as she recalled her body pressed against his intimately as she tried to get a damned book from his hand. “After…” Her mind replayed his face as he whispered her name, she had almost wanted him to lean in and kiss her.

The blush turned so violently deep that she turned away from him, “Damn you, you’re no help at all.”

“Granger means to say,” Draco drawled, clearly enjoying her discomfort, “That she fell asleep after rummaging through my bag without permission, and sexually assaulting me, all to get her hands on one of my books.”

“I did not!” Hermione snapped, standing quickly to face him, clenching her fists at her sides. She felt her face growing hotter. Ginny’s jaw dropped and then she gave a snort of laughter. Then, she suddenly saw it all from Draco’s perspective. “Oh… oh no..” Hermione whispered, bringing one hand to cover her mouth, staring at the wall behind him as she replayed everything in her mind, “...I did…”

“You did?!” Ginny squeaked behind her.

“She did.” Draco nodded calmly, sitting up, straightening his shirt. “Don’t worry, Granger, I won’t be pressing charges.”

Ginny snorted with laughter again. “Oh, do tell the full story, Malfoy. I haven’t seen her this worked up in months!”

Hermione huffed, glaring at her friend. “You’re terrible!” She stomped away from both of them to gather her things. They both chuckled behind her back. Ginny and Draco both, laughing at her expense!

A Healer entered the ward, and stormed towards them. Visiting hours had long been over. How had they managed to fall asleep there, unnoticed and undisturbed? Hermione frowned at the thought. Ginny didn’t seem to think about it as she beamed at the fierce woman and approached her quickly to pacify the situation. 

Hermione quickly picked up her bag, then saw the book tossed on the floor near Draco’s bag, and her medical file sitting on the table. She hesitated for a moment. He stood, picking up the book, placing it on her file, and then held both out to her. She stared at him, confused.

“...I thought you said-”

Without hesitation, he pulled the strap of her bag with one hand. She stepped forward. “You’ve got others that should hear about this first, Granger.” He glanced at Ginny for a quick moment, flipping her bag open. “I think I may have a death sentence over my head if I find out what’s going on before a few… particular friends of yours.” His eyes seemed to bore into hers as he slid both in her bag, then flipped it closed. “...after you read the book, if you think it could help your condition, then decide if you want to share it with me.”

Her fingers tightened on the strap of her bag. A wave of gratitude hit her, but before she could say anything, he turned away to get his things.

“Time to go!” Ginny called cheerfully as the Healer continued to scold her in furious whispers.

Draco held the door for all of them. Their footsteps felt eerie at this god awful hour in the hospital. “See you tomorrow?” she asked as they stepped outside to apparate home. He gave a simple nod, walking down the street a few paces before disappearing with a loud crack.

The rush of the garden flowers struck Hermione as they appeared back in front of the Burrow. Earthy, sweet and fragrant air floated around them. Everything seemed still and quiet. Even Ginny appeared to be trying to control her temper. Hermione wasn’t going to be able to sleep… and Ginny wasn’t going to be able to be fooled. She sighed, making a decision, then took her friend by the elbow, “...I need to tell you something…”

She walked to the tree where she, Ron and Harry had stood just a few hours ago to take a picture. Strength and safety flooded her again at the thought of that moment. It steadied her. She inhaled deeply to begin, “Ginny…”

“Did you really sexually assault Malfoy?”

“Ginny!” Hermione couldn’t help but blush. This time, they laughed together. “...I might’ve… oh… well… I really think I… did.” her voice grew steadily quieter with each word, the final barely a squeak.

“All for a book?” Ginny asked to confirm. Hermione gave a slow nod, a sheepish grin on her face, “A book!” she laughed again, tears in her eyes, “Oh, I wish I’d been there to see it! Hermione, that is so like you! I bet you didn’t even realize what you were doing the whole time. I wish I could’ve seen Malfoy’s face! What did you do to him?” 

Ginny’s ability to call her so clearly was unwelcome. She cleared her throat, “Look, as much as you enjoy what happened-”

“I’d say he must’ve been the one that enjoyed it,” Ginny interrupted with an all too familiar grin on her face.

“Ginny!” Hermione snapped, thumping the file on her legs. “I’m trying to tell you something important!”

“...well, I already read that file, so I’m just trying to lighten the mood.”

Hermione froze, mouth suddenly tight, heart in her throat. “W...What do you mean you’ve already read it?”

“I wanted to know where you were,” Ginny said stubbornly, “I found you lying there, with Malfoy, and that file had your name on it, and Mum told me about how you’d gone to St. Mungos, and that you’d been taking lots more trips alone lately, and… and…” she looked guilty suddenly, “...I thought it was just Mind Healer stuff, Hermione… I knew you were lying to me when you brushed me off after Quidditch ended...I just thought if I knew what was going on, I could help. I didn’t realize… how serious…” she broke off, looking away, crossing her arms over her chest, “I shouldn’t of…” she said lowly, “...I’m sorry.”

In a way, this was easier. Relief flooded Hermione’s tense body. She relaxed, then put a hand on Ginny’s arm. “...I’m not mad. I just didn’t want anyone to worry about me, so… I tried to keep it to myself.”

“That was stupid,” Ginny remarked dryly, putting a hand over Hermione’s on her arm. “You’re as good as a sister to me, Hermione. You should’ve told us sooner.”

Her hand tightened on Ginny’s arm. “I’m not telling everyone, Ginny.” Hermione suddenly felt panic welling in her chest again, “You have to keep this a secret!”

Ginny frowned, taking Hermione’s hand in both of hers, “Hermione, this isn’t the kind of thing that should be a secret. Mum and Dad, Harry and Ron-”

“No, Ginny-”

“It’s dangerous for them not to know!” Ginny shook her head no slightly, “It’s dangerous for you for them not to know. What happens if the symptoms progress?”

“Please stop-” That thought terrified her. Her breathing was starting to feel like it had before Draco had given her the calming draft. She felt her hands shaking.

“Alright, alright!” Ginny cried in alarm, wrapping an arm suddenly around Hermione’s shoulders, “Hermione, just breathe! I’ll be quiet, just… just breathe.”

Ginny rubbed a hand in soothing circles on her back to calm her down. After a few minutes, she felt steady again. “...I don’t really understand how the hell Malfoy fits in to all this,” Ginny pondered aloud, “Care to shed some light on that subject? And why you were asleep on him?”

“...Draco had a book-”

“So he’s Draco now, is he?” Ginny teased in a sultry tone.

Hermione felt herself flush again. “Do you want to know or not?”

“Oh, I’m all ears for this,” Ginny replied with a grin, “Especially knowing exactly how you tried to jump his bones for a book.”

Hermione walked her through the day. Healer Amy, the treatment plans, Neville, Draco, the tea, the reading, calculating for Draco’s calming draft, the spine of the book she’d seen in his bag, her moment of compulsion to seize it, her indecent behavior trying to get it back, then her sudden admission of illness to Draco, the draft with chamomile tea, and how she fell asleep. Ginny remained attentive the entire time, making Hermione flush anew with a few raised eyebrows and smirks. 

Afterwards, they sat there. Ginny glanced at the book in Hermione’s bag. She frowned slightly at the spine, “Hermione, what does that even say?”

“Sanitatem,” Hermione replied, tracing a finger down the spine of the book. “It’s Latin. It means Healing.”

Ginny frowned. “How can you see that? It doesn’t spell anything.”

“It’s written in ancient runes,” Hermione replied calmly, “When I saw it in his bag… I just… couldn’t resist.”

“Why’d he give it to you?”

Hermione didn’t answer. She still wasn’t sure about that herself. He had no reason to give her the book. She’d asked, and he’d seen how badly she wanted it, and he let her borrow it. He didn’t even know what was wrong with her. Now that she thought about it, though, her mind wandered back.

Draco had given her the book, because she’d wanted it. Luna had given him a necklace, just like the one she wore. He’d shared his calming draft, more than once now. He’d even asked for her help with calculations, like Ron and Harry had for years at Hogwarts. He and Neville both had sat with her today when they had no reason to do so. Draco read to his mother and Neville’s parents. Neville was comfortable around his old enemy now. That silver eyed man had seen her in distress more than any of her friends this month, and hadn’t left her to wallow in it alone. Whether he admitted it or not, he’d taken that Crucio curse so she wouldn’t have to suffer it. 

“I think…” Hermione said slowly, somewhat surprised. “I think that Draco Malfoy and I may be friends.”

“Well, that’s good,” Ginny said with a glint in her eye, “Guess I’ll have to come with you to St. Mungos to make sure he’s still not an arrogant git.”

“Oh, he is,” Hermione said with a smirk. The two of them finally went back in the house to try to sleep. ...but I think he’s grown on me…. Hermione admitted to herself quietly.


End file.
